


Girl Sees God

by Captainwittyoneliner



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Natasha Romanov, BAMF Darcy Lewis, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky the food thief, Crushed by the weight of hot amnesiac assassins, Darcy needs a day job, F/M, Guess who gets kidnapped, Infinity Gems, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Pansexual Darcy Lewis, Pining, Protective Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson is a Gift, She's going to need the pot back Bucky, Temporary Character Death, accidentally a therapist to a therapist, bet you can't, cooking with falcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captainwittyoneliner/pseuds/Captainwittyoneliner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Question:<br/>What do you do when the Black Widow shows up on your doorstep?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Straight off the Graveyard Shift

     Question:

     What do you do when the Black Widow shows up on your doorstep?

 

     “So let me get this straight,” Darcy said as Natasha moved passed her into the tiny living area/kitchen of her shitty D.C. apartment, the one she was barely making rent on with two jobs and a TA position at Culver.

     “You’ve blown all of your covers?”

     “Yep,” Natasha popped the ‘p’ before moving into the small bedroom. Darcy followed with her arms crossed, brow furrowed.

     “And you’re going to go searching for a new one…basically anywhere you want.”

     “Mmhm.” She slid the doors of Darcy’s closet open and Darcy watched in bemusement as she grabbed choice items from her wardrobe.

     “And it’s going to be hella dangerous, with leftover remnants of Hydra and all manner of old enemies springing up from the shadows to kill you.”

     “Absolutely.” She put all the clothes on Darcy’s bed and then reached underneath to pull out her suitcase, which, Darcy wasn’t going to ask why she knew where that was.

     “And you want me, a civilian with nothing but a doctorate in poli-sci, to go with you.”

     Natasha popped the gum in her mouth as she turned to face Darcy where she was standing in the doorway. They stared at each other for a moment before Natasha grinned.

     “Yes.”

     Darcy looked at Natasha, then the apartment around her. She thought about how shitty the jobs she was working were—a diner and front-desk assistant at a small firm—and then about all the danger that going with the black widow might entail. She shrugged.

     “Alright. Why the hell not?”

     Answer:

     You follow her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get it, because she just came from the graveyard. You know. The final scene. No? Okay.


	2. Right Out of Budapest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question:  
> What do you do when you want to impress Captain America and The Winter Soldier?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternately titled "She's a Knockout"

     Question:

     What do you do when you want to impress Captain America and the Winter Soldier?

     

     They started in the western hemisphere.

     In Mexico, the soul searching started with margaritas and ended with old red room agents trying very hard to kill Natasha while they were on the beach. Darcy isn’t sure where she was hiding that knife when all she was wearing were three scraps of triangles that passed for a bikini.

     Natasha starts to train her.

     They hit up most of Central America and Darcy re-learns, and becomes fluent in, Spanish. She also helps Natasha take down a drug cartel. Darcy throws one guy off of the Panama Canal and also tries unsuccessfully to do The Thigh Trick Natasha is trying to teach her while Natasha takes pictures.

     They stop at a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that’s popular with the locals and share some Ceviche on the way out of Panama. Darcy learns six different recipes for it because _holy shit_ is she a fan.

     They don’t stay in any one place for longer than a week at most and, sadly, skip everything in the Caribbean. Natasha says that they can hit it up on the way back but Darcy doubts it.

     In Colombia, they run into FARC. Unsurprisingly, they also want Natasha’s head. They end up saving a couple of hostages that the group had taken and Darcy cries when one of them tells her what’s been done to them. Natasha shanks at least twelve on her way out of the camp.

     Darcy takes training more seriously. She still can’t execute The Thigh Trick quite right but she’s getting there, she thinks. From Natasha’s exasperated huffs and face-palming…yeah, maybe not.

     She also meets the president of Colombia, suggesting peace talks between the two opposing forces in his country in order to stop civilian casualties. They take a selfie together.

     What? She may be training more seriously but that doesn’t mean she’s going to _be_ more serious, herself.

     In Ecuador, a war lord proposes to her. She doesn’t remember his name which is probably rude since she _did_ tase him.

     They move through Peru where, strangely, they’re able to relax, taking an Amazonian river cruise into Brazil. Natasha makes her climb the statue in Rio de Janeiro with the challenge of not being caught. Which is _hard_ because not only is it a ridiculous thing to climb—and probably offensive to do—it’s also lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

     I mean, she does it, but _still_.

     In Argentina, they run into two Russian secret-service members who, apparently, knew Natasha from her days with the KGB. Also, the Russian President is in town. It gets very awkward between Natasha and the service members and then very bloody. Nobody dies, thankfully. Darcy fucks up The Thigh Trick and gets thrown against a wall for her troubles. She will get this fucking move _down_ , she swears on the baby Jesus.

     They take a picture of the beginnings of the new European Extremely Large Telescope (no joke, that’s its name) in Chile. Darcy sends it to Jane, who freaks the fuck out.

     They head to Africa, which has way too many countries to visit them all and they’re on a time constraint. Darcy thinks? She hasn’t really asked Natasha when she thinks they’ll get back. Which, maybe that’s a pretty big oversight but Darcy is, strangely enough, having quite a bit of fun and she and Natasha have gotten pretty close.

     They fight some remnants of Al Qaeda somewhere in northern Niger. Darcy gets proposed to by a prince in Sudan (he’s just visiting). She declines but keeps in touch. In Egypt they sneak up to the top of the great pyramids and Natasha tells her about a mission she once had here sometime in the mid-eighties. She also starts to hint about things that happened to her in the Red Room. Darcy cries about that, too, but not where Natasha can see her.

     A skinny kid off the streets also proposes to Darcy.

     She accepts but, seeing as he’s ten, convinces him to agree to a long engagement. Of like. Ten years.

     They travel around for almost a year. Darcy learns a lot of languages and they both realize that she’s actually a polyglot. They move east and make their way through Asia, Russia (short lived), and Europe. Darcy makes a lot of friends, fights a lot of people, gets proposed to twice more (she’s just rolling with it, now), and meets so many politicians/ambassadors/world leaders her head spins. She keeps up, though, and she can tell Natasha is impressed and proud that she’s come this far.

     By the time Natasha’s called home in March the next year, Darcy’s learned a lot. Some things she wishes she’d known a long time ago and others she wishes she hadn’t learnt at all; for better or worse she knows now. They fly to New York from Budapest (and Natasha tells her the story of her and Clint in Budapest before the plane arrives) and are picked up by Clint at the airport. Clint and she get along like a house on fire. Natasha isn’t really surprised.

     At the tower, Clint escorts them in and up to the Avengers’ common floor. Natasha sends him back down for their luggage.

     “Aw, but Tash,” Clint complains. Natasha just arches an eyebrow and Clint shuffles off with a sigh. When Darcy looks around she finds the common floor occupied by two people. One is very obviously Captain America. The other is very obviously that one dude who trashed D.C. and made her commute a living hell. They’re both standing at attention in front of the couch, a baseball game playing, ignored, in the background. The Captain is tense but smiling at Natasha and Natasha smiles back.

     “Come say hello, Steve,” Natasha says with a smile and Captain Fucking America walks over to give her a hug. The guy from D.C. walks in his shadow, eerily silent and in sync with the Captain’s footfalls.

     “This is Darcy Lewis,” Natasha introduces once the Captain has let her go. He smiles and extends his hand to Darcy.

     “Steve Rogers,” He says.

     “Nice to meet you, Captain Rogers,” Darcy replies with a smile of her own and shakes Captain Motherfucking America’s hand.

     “Please, just Steve is fine.” He tells her with a smirk but the blush rising on his cheeks contradicts the intended effect. He’s _adorable_.

     Steve turns to his shadow and gives him and expectant look. The man looks at Steve, grimaces, looks at Darcy with a raised eyebrow, _dismisses her_ , and then turns to Natasha. Who he starts conversing with in Russian.

 _What the fuck?_ She thinks, peeved.

     Natasha, too, looks peeved with his obvious dismissal but also superior about it and Darcy knows that she’s waiting for Darcy to jump in and change the man’s mind. She listens to what he’s saying and finds him asking Natasha where she’s been these last months. Darcy sees her chance and takes it.

     “We just came from Budapest,” Darcy butts in formally in Russian, a self satisfied smirk on her face.

     He freezes and turns to her, eyes blank. Her smirk falls and Darcy has a split second to think, _Oh, Shit_ before he’s tumbling over.

     And taking her down with him.

     Darcy yelps as he lands on top of her and Captain America is shocked for all of three seconds before he’s angrily yelling at her, demanding what she did.

     “I don’t know! I don’t know,” she repeats as he yells at her, slowly being crushed under what has to be a fucking _ton_ of man-flesh. Also, angry Captain America? Fucking _terrifying_.

     Meanwhile, Natasha is laughing her ass off because her little protégé _definitely_ won’t be forgotten or dismissed now.

     Answer:

      _Not Fucking That!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone living in the countries mentioned if this isn't accurate at all. I just looked up the news of what's going down during 2014 in those countries and hopefully I haven't offended anyone with misrepresentation or my white, 1st world, imperialistic upbringing. I just tried to fit Darcy in as an important factor of world events at the time. Even if they're a bit out of order...and far fetched.  
> Also, that telescope is a real thing. A real thing that is actually called that real name.  
> Tell me if you see any errors!


	3. Back in the Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question:  
> How do you catch a Falcon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this chapter isn't sexist. She just likes to cook.  
> This was going to be called "Friend of a Friend" but I want to stick with the titles' patterns for now.

     Question:

     How do you catch a Falcon?

 

     A week after Darcy’s, to be honest, huge fuck-up of a first impression, Darcy’s down in the labs filling Jane in on all the cool adventures she got to have. Jane is maybe listening while also trying to do science and Darcy would be offended by this except she’s just using Jane as an alibi. Or a witness in case one the wonder twins decides to murder her.

     After Captain America (because there’s _no way_ she can call him _Steve_ , now) had gotten his unconscious friend off of her thankful breasts and crushed ribcage, Natasha had reassured him that no, Darcy was not Hydra and no, she didn’t know that was a trigger phrase. They really had just gotten back from Budapest. The good Captain didn’t seem reassured and had continued to glare at Darcy as he laid his friend on the couch and called for Dr. Banner.

     By that time, Clint had returned with their luggage and Natasha told him to take both sets and Darcy up to her apartment. She’d decided that Darcy would stay with her for a couple reasons: 1.) They’d been sleeping in the same bedroom for almost a year, 2.) she trusted Darcy, 3.) Darcy really didn’t want to stay with Thor and Jane and listen to them bump uglies all the time like in London.

     She wasn’t there when the man who is apparently the Winter Soldier and _James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes_ woke up. In fact, she’d rarely seen him at all this past week. However, she did notice that every time she entered a room, he fled. _Fled._ Like, straight up ran scared. Which, seeing a 240lbs of muscle, six foot plus, metal-armed, _veteran of war_ flee from a 150lbs girl who’s _maybe_ 5’4” would be funny—if it wasn’t so fucking heartbreaking.

     Natasha had given her the cliff-notes version of Sergeant Barnes’ traumatic past.

     She cried about it.

     Hey, don’t judge her! You’d cry too if you’d known!

     When Sergeant Barnes wasn’t fleeing her general vicinity, he was hiding behind Captain Rogers, who took every chance he got to glare at her until _she_ left _his_ vicinity. 

     She was avoiding them at all costs so it’s not like they ran into each other often but still. Having Captain America pissed at you isn’t good for a girl’s ego. Not only does Darcy feel like she’s let down her entire country, but she also now knows that Captain Rogers is _fucking intense_ when he’s angry. She’s half scared she’s going to spontaneously combust from him just _glaring_ at her. And not the _good_ kind of spontaneous combustion, either!

     On the bright side (kind of?), it was much easier to make friends with the other Avengers once they knew that she’d taken down both the God of Thunder _and_ The Winter Soldier.

     Well, it was easier to make friends with _Tony_ because he’s an asshole who enjoys when his teammates are emotionally traumatized. He’d actually _shook her hand_ when they’d been introduced.

     And Clint liked her anyway.

     And Dr. Banner was just a kind guy and easy to like in general, so…

     She probably gets street cred for it? Darcy isn’t really sure. Not that she _wants_ street cred for it just that it would be cool if she _got_ street cred for it…

     Anyway.

     “So this kid pulls an Aladdin on those fuckers and _jumps onto the roof!_ It was _insane!_ I was about to start singing ‘One Jump Ahead’ but I felt like that would be rude and probably offensive so I didn’t. But I _did_ trip up at least six officers and ‘accidentally’ helped the kid escape,” Darcy’s telling Jane excitedly, “So he finds me later, you know, in the back alleys of Cairo and he’s like, ten but he’s _super_ adorable and badass. I basically just hung out with him and his little gang for a day and a half but it was _great_ , Jane, and he pro—Jane? Jane are you listening?”

     Jane’s buried up to her elbows in one of the machines that she and Darcy had jerry-rigged together back when Jane had no funding. Darcy isn’t sure why she still has it. If she was going to live in Stark/Avengers’ Tower then why not use the nice, shiny _new_ machines?

     “Huh? What?” Jane says, still not looking at Darcy.

     “Jane, I’m trying to regale you with stories of my epic adventures in Egypt. Jane. Jaaaaney.” Darcy tries again but no dice. She’s lost the other woman to Science! Another casualty of the ongoing struggle…

     Darcy wipes away an imaginary tear for her lost comrade just as the doors to the shared lab space slide open with a quiet hiss and there, standing in the threshold, a glorious angel, confused and lost on the winding Lab floor.

     Okay, so it was just the Falcon (who she coincidentally hadn’t met because the _super-babies_ had kept his cute ass all to themselves) and he actually looked like he knew what he was doing but whatever.

     He looks around with a frown on his face and Darcy thinks that, hey, this would be a good time to try and make a better impression on the guy who has probably been told that she’s possibly Hydra.

     “Looking for someone-slash-thing in particular, dude?” She asks, giving him a friendly wave and a smile. He looks surprised that she’d said anything and stares at her for a second before deciding she’s safe enough, even going so far as to return the smile.

     “Yeah, actually, um—have you seen Tony? Because my wing-pack is missing and I have the sneaking suspicion that he’s got it. I’m scared to think what he might do to it, actually,” Sam laughs, crossing closer to her.

     Darcy winces in sympathy because she may not have known Tony long, but she’s known him long enough to find out first hand that his ‘upgrades’ are sporadic and ridiculous. She’s already had to buy two new, _normal_ Tasers to replace the ones he’d ‘fixed’.

     Darcy opens her mouth to answer that no, she hadn’t seen Tony lately when the man himself sauntered in through the connecting door to his lab.

     “AH! Wilson! Just the man I wanted to see!” He shouts, strolling over.

     He’s carrying Sam’s wing-pack. Darcy puts a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles.

     Tony goes into extreme science-y detail about what he’s done to the poor thing and Darcy can’t understand most of it but she does hear the words ‘plutonium’ and ‘underwater breathing apparatus’. Sam looks increasingly worried.

     “Tony what happened to the parachute?”

     “Hm? What?”

     “My parachute, Tony. Where is it,” Sam says turning the wing-pack this way and that. Darcy’s trying really hard not to laugh.

     “Oh, well I had to take it out to make room….for the…uh. Oh.”

     “Yeah, ‘oh’.”

     “I can see how that would be a problem,” Tony admits as he takes the pack back, “Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.”

     He runs out of the room before anyone can get a word in otherwise. Sam shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and Darcy snorts. Sam looks up with narrowed eyes, a mischievous glint in the brown depths.

     “Oh, you think it’s so funny, huh?” He asks, straightening.

     “Ha! Yes? I’m just glad Tony’s messing with someone who isn’t me.”

     “Why would he be messing with you?”

     “Are you saying I’m not important enough to be messed with,” Darcy states with a smirk.

     “More like _too_ important to be messed with. I’m Sam Wilson, by the way,” He gives her one of those gorgeous genuine grins and a hand to shake.

     “Darcy Lewis and I must admit. That was very smooth,” she nods, taking his hand and giving it a quick pump. She stands up and stretches as he gives her an assessing look.  

      _Oh boy,_ she thinks, _I know where this is going._

     “Darcy, huh?” He says, “weren’t you the one who—“

     “Yes, and it was an accident. I didn’t know that was a trigger,” She tells him exasperatedly, shoulders slumping and hands covering her face, “and we literally _had just_ got back from Budapest.”

     Sam just laughs at her and Darcy peaks up through her hands to see. She really does just want to be friends with all the cool superheroes.

     “So,” she says, straightening, “It’s about that time of day where I try to get the Scientists Three™ to eat something. I was going to head up to the kitchen, make a ceviche I learned in Panama. You wanna join me? Maybe help me out a bit? I’ll feed you,” She cajoles, poking her fingers in his general direction.

     “Alright, why not?” he decides with a smile, “Tony’s gonna need the fuel to fix my wing-pack and I ain’t got nothing better to do at the moment. Sure, I’ll help.”

     Darcy gives him a brilliant smile and they chat all the way up to the common floor kitchen.

     Sam is super easy to get along with. A great guy who’s kind and flirty and whose jokes are always funny but not crude or offensive. Before she knows it, they’ve become good friends in the time span of just a few days, bantering back and forth, cooking for each other and their friends, and luring in red-headed assassins with fabulous cookie recipes.

     Darcy soon finds out that the Avengers generally use Sam as both therapist and sounding board and she often listens to him complain about some dumb shit the two super-soldiers got up to together or the stress of being so far away from his own family. He misses them even if he enjoys being here and fighting the good fight. Darcy just listens and offers sympathy, deciding to be _his_ sounding board, if nothing else.

     Also, he’s a fantastic cook.

     Answer:

     You give him Grandma Lewis’ secret recipes.


	4. A Thief in the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question:
> 
>  
> 
> Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, here's another chapter where literally nothing happens.  
> There is more cooking, though.  
> Also, the idea is that the questions at the beginning of each chapter are being asked and answered by Darcy herself.

     Question:

     ( ~~How many of these dumb things can the author actually get away with?~~ )

     Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?

     

     “You’re avoiding them,” Natasha says as she flips Darcy through the air much like a five year old would fling their doll in a tantrum.

     Darcy rolls with the momentum like she’s been taught and pops up in a ready stance just in time to block a hit to the stomach.

     Natasha’s floor of Avengers’ Tower includes two full suites, one for Tasha and the guest suite that Tony thought she would never use (jokes on him); a medium-sized boxing gym with sparring mats and yoga mats; and an obstacle course fit for the ex-Red Room operative who uses it. At the moment, the two women are on the sparring mats, Darcy trying desperately to keep up with her friend in hand-to-hand combat.

     “It’s not—shit,” she mutters dodging another swing that would have landed on her solar plexus, “It’s not that I’m—avoiding—fuck!—them. It’s just that I’m not necessarily _actively_ seeking them out.”

     Darcy tries to go on the offensive but Natasha grabs her wrist and flips her again, throwing Darcy to the ground and putting a foot over her throat.

     “Well, you should be. This can’t go on for much longer. It’s causing tension within the team.”

     Darcy is breathing heavily as Natasha lifts her foot and helps pull the younger woman to her feet. Natasha hasn’t even broken a sweat.

     “What is that? Black Widow: 325; Untrained Intern: 2?” Darcy says, trying not to comment on the fact that Natasha is right. As usual.

     “You need to speak with them,” Natasha lectures, hands on her hips as Darcy grabs two towels and their water bottles and ignoring the brunette’s redirection.

     “I know,” Darcy mumbles, taking a swig of her water and handing the other off. Natasha smiles at Darcy fondly.

     “Speaking of things you know, you should get a job,” she suggests as she wipes her hands off on her towel. Darcy chokes on her water and laughs.

     “What? Tired of me mooching off of you already? Man, a whole year. This must be a new record for me.”

     “ _Not even close, little one,_ ” Natasha laughs, switching to Russian, “ _I’m just tired of seeing you so aimless. You need purpose. What about applying at the U.N._?”

     “ _Yeah, because the United Nations is going to take a woman fresh out of college with no experience_ ,” Darcy flows into Russian as well, following Natasha’s lead.

     “ _You could intern there_ ,” Natasha says in Swedish this time.

     “ _I’m already interning here_ ,” Darcy laughs, switching languages to keep up, “ _Which, speaking of, I have to go feed and water the toddlers doing science in the labs._ ”

     She jogs toward the exit, hoping to get in a quick shower before going down to cook. Natasha calls her name as she gets to the door.

     “Yeah?”

     “See if you can’t find the two boys, while you’re at it, hm?” She says, not having to elaborate on _which_ two boys, “It really is important that all three of you feel safe in the tower, Darcy.”

     “Yeah, I know. I don’t want them to feel threatened in their own home either, but Barnes won’t stay in the same room with me long enough for me to apologize,” Darcy sighs. Natasha considers this.

     “I’ll see what I can do about that, alright? For now, find Steve first.”

     “Yes, mom,” Darcy jokes turning to leave.

     “And get a job, you lazy bum!” Natasha shouts after her. They both laugh.

 

     Bucky had worked so, so hard over the past year to regain the pieces of himself that Hydra had taken away. He’d burned them down, salted the earth, traveled to all the places he’d been sent before, during, and after the war. He’d thought that he and Steve had eliminated the worst of the threats. He thought that Sam and the Professor had helped him dig out all the hidden commands and trigger phrases they’d put into his head.

     And then she’d showed up.

     And she’d proven that there were things—phrases, triggers—that he still didn’t know.

     Dear God, that trigger could have been for _anything._ He could have gone on a rampage, he could have hurt people—he could have hurt _Steve_.

     While Bucky’s grateful that it was only a shut-down key—used to knock him out so that he can be retrieved and reprogrammed (thank god he was safe in the tower)—he’s still terrified that there are more triggers that he doesn’t know, even with the assurances of both Professor Xavier and Sam that that was it.

     He still doesn’t believe that the girl had ‘accidentally’ said it, either.

     Who ‘accidentally’ knows a trigger phrase for the Winter Soldier?

     Bucky scoffs at the thought, grumbling to himself as he makes his way towards the common rooms. He hears singing and stops short. It’s…it’s _good_ singing.

     Then he smells the food and nearly moans out loud.

     Paprikash. Someone is making Romanian Paprikash.

     Christ, he hasn’t had Paprikash since…since before the war, at least.

     Bucky feels his mouth start to water and he inches forward, hiding around the corner to the kitchen.

     His stomach plummets when he sees _her._

     Darcy Lewis is dancing around the kitchen, singing…something and cooking his favorite food in a cream crop-top and high-waisted jeans. She has headphones in and the peak of her midriff shows a jeweled ring resting in her belly button.

     And shit is she attractive. The girl’s got a voice like an angel and curves that could kill a man. Her hair hangs loose and curling down her back, quite a few shades darker than his own (almost black) and sways as she moves. Her electric-blue eyes are focused on the task she’s got at hand and her pretty red lips form around the words of whatever song it is she’s singing.

     But then, Natalia’s very attractive, too, and she’s almost killed him on more than one occasion.

     “Shit,” Darcy says and Bucky startles, thinking, for a moment, that she’s spotted him in the shadows, but no. She’s talking to herself.

     “This is way more food than I intended to make…” she mutters as she moves the food from the pot to three plates. She looks at the rest of the Paprikash in the pot (what appears to be enough to feed at least six more people. Or, you know, him and Steve as a snack) and then back to the plates.

     “They’re not even going eat this much. Should I give it to Thor?” She looks at the clock on the stove and then back to the three plates again.

     “I’ll deal with it when I come back up,” she says and moves towards where Bucky is hiding. He quickly gets out of her way, still unseen, and watches her go with the heavenly looking dishes. He stares after her for a minute after the elevator doors close and then back at the dish on the stove. He looks at the elevator. He looks at the stove.

     Fuck it, it’s probably not poisoned.

     

     Darcy delivers the bounty of food to her Scientists Three™ and comes back to the common rooms’ kitchen to deal with the rest of her mess. However, when she gets there, the rest of the Paprikash is gone. And by that she means the entire pot is gone.

     “I’ve been bamboozled!” She shouts dramatically. She looks around and sees that her thief, whoever that may be, has considerately cleaned up the mess she left behind.

     So that rules out Natasha.

     “You’ve been who’s it-what’s it, now?” Sam asks as he saunters into the kitchen, breathing heavy and sweaty from his mid-day work out with the Captain. Darcy smiles at him. That rules out Sam as well.

     “I’ve been bamboozled. My Paprikash is—don’t drink out of the carton, you heathen!”

     Darcy slaps him on the arm as he chokes on the orange juice he’d drunk.

     

     Steve comes back from sparring with Sam to find Bucky at the kitchen table of their apartment eating what looks suspiciously like Paprikash.

     And damn if it doesn’t smell like heaven. 

     Except he knows for a fact that neither he nor his boyfriend can cook worth a damn. And Sam was sparring with him, so…

     “Hey, Buck, whatcha got there?”

     Bucky looks up from shoveling food into his mouth and narrows his eyes at Steve’s hungry gaze.

     “Exactly what it looks like, punk,” Bucky says through a mouthful of food.

     “Where’d you get it?”

     “You’re assuming I didn’t cook it myself.”

     “If you’d cooked it yourself it wouldn’t be edible. Or smell as good as it does.”

     “Wow, fuck you too, punk.” Steve grins.

     “Can I have a bite?”

     “After you just insulted me? Insulted _my_ cooking? In my own home? On this the day of my daughter’s wedding…” Bucky takes another bite, laughing, and darts up and back as Steve lunges for the pot in his arms.

     Answer:

     I don’t know but we’re going to find the fuck out, bitches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically I'm developing the relationships between friends, at the moment. I have a head-canon that Natasha is totally like a mom/older sister to Darcy  
> (aLso if this wasn't a Darcy/Steve/Bucky fic it would totally be a Natasha/Darcy fic. WHAT'S BETTER THAN THIS HUH?????? GALS BEING PALS. PALS BEING GAY-I MEAN GALS.)  
> Also, Bucky and Natasha don't trust each other but they both trust Steve, so...


	5. On the Streets of Manhattan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question:  
> Is Steve Rogers a gentleman?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more nothing ft. the bane of our generation: Job searches. 
> 
> But hey they finally apologize to each other.

     Question:

     Is Steve Rogers a gentleman?

 

     Darcy doesn’t _really_ find out who’s taking the leftover food and cleaning up for her when she cooks; there’s no proof. But she’s got a sneaking suspicion she knows who it is—even if the overgrown _child_ won’t man up and be in the same room with her for more than ten seconds. She knows it’s not any of the scientists. Thor’s off world, Barton (like Natasha) doesn’t know what chores are, and Steve is always occupied with Sam or something else during or around the time she makes food.

     She didn’t know that the fucking _Winter Soldier_ was a damn _sneak_.

     Or. Actually she _did_ know that. That’s kind of what he was _made for_ , after all…though Hydra probably didn’t think he’d be using those skills for stealing Darcy’s food in _particular_. At least, she doesn’t _think_ so...?

     Still.

     She figures, _what the heck, this is as good a way to apologize as any._

     She starts leaving enough for two Super-soldiers and including a recipe/ingredients list so they can try to make the dishes themselves. From what Sam’s told her, both of them are hopeless in the kitchen.

     Or at a grill.

     Or just around food in general if they’re not eating it.

     Darcy doesn’t really get the chance to see the two of them and apologize face to face because in between cooking for the Scientists Three™ and keeping up her training with Natasha, Darcy’s trying to find a god damn job.

     Despite her experience and world travels, her training and her degree, Darcy Lewis is, unfortunately, a poor post-graduate student with no job and living off of her super-assassin friend. Which is great, really, she loves Natasha. She likes being with her and joking with her and training with her and she’s super grateful the woman is putting up with her.

     But she wants her own space.

     She wants her _own_ apartment that she’s paying for with her _own_ money.

     Which means that she needs a job. A _good_ job because Natasha is right (as usual). Darcy doesn’t do well without a purpose and taking care of Jane is all well and good but it’s not what she’s made for. It’s not what she studied for years to do.

     So it was off to job search. And you’d think, knowing the Prince of Wakanda and Thor and a whole bunch of others, she comes well endorsed for any position. You’d be wrong.

     Darcy may know the Prince of Wakanda, he may have even given her a share of their vibranium reserves (Darcy can neither confirm nor deny this claim), but Darcy couldn’t put him as a reference without explaining why or how she knew him. And she couldn’t explain it; not without putting him, or a whole bunch of other people, in danger.

     So she was left with two references.

     A VA counselor named Sam Wilson, and a world renowned astrophysicist named Doctor Jane Foster. Neither of those really help when you want a job working for a non-profit, or a political campaign, or the freaking U.N. but god damn it, Darcy was going to try.

     Which is why she found herself walking through New York, Sam Wilson at her side (he’d graciously volunteered to be her shoulder to cry on), a stack of résumés in one hand, and a list of charitable organizations and non-profits in the other.

     “Why don’t you apply at SI?” Sam asks as he watches her cross off another name on the list. They’d been out and about all morning, Darcy dropping off a resume or filling out an application to be ‘kept for future consideration’—code for ‘to be thrown away later’—before being turned away.

     “I technically already work at SI,” Darcy says, typing another address into her phone’s GPS.

     “They don’t even pay you.”

     “Shh, Sam,” she puts a finger against his lips, he raises a brow a brow at her, “you’re not here to talk. You’re here to look pretty.”

     Darcy starts following the directions on her phone, Sam trailing behind her with an amused smile.

     “Besides, the Maria Stark foundation isn’t hiring at the moment, not for anything that I’m qualified for at least.”

     “Ask Tony? I’m sure he’ll give you a job,” Sam reasons with her, hands in his pockets as she leads them through the streets of downtown Manhattan. She stops and turns to him.

     “Excuse you, that’s cronyism, Sam. Are you, an _adult_ , suggesting that _I_ , an impressionable young…um…also adult—,” Sam starts laughing, “—shut up—allow Tony Stark to play favorites? Because how dare you—stop laughing—think that I, an upstanding citizen—“

     Sam laughs harder and she sees people passing by smile at their interactions.

     “Alright, fine, whatever, I don’t need you or your cute butt,” Darcy says, trying not to laugh as well. She starts to walk off and he catches up, still chuckling.

     “For real though,” Sam tells her, “you’re more than qualified for a job at the Maria Stark foundation and Tony would give it to you no questions asked. You know he’s got a soft spot for you.”

     “Yeah, I know,” Darcy sighs, motioning with the papers in her hands, “The thing is, I don’t _want_ a job at the tower. I want a job that has nothing to do with—with superheroes or wormholes or gods-slash-aliens. No offense.”

     “None taken. And I get it. Something that’s normal, yeah?”

     “Yeah,” she says, giving Sam a relieved smile, “and thanks, Sam. For, you know, coming with me and being super rad.”

     Sam grins back, waggling his eyebrows and making her laugh.

     “No problem. So where we headed,” he asks, rubbing his hands together.

     “Um, The Education Foundation,” she reads off her list, frowning, “it’s the last one.”

     “Sam?”

     They both look up at the sound of a familiar voice to see Steve and Bucky walking towards them on the side-walk. Sam moves slightly in front of her as subtle as he can but Darcy sees the Captain frown at the movement anyway even if he keeps his pace.

     “Hey, man what’s up,” Sam asks, and it’s genuine, with none of the tension she thought would be there based on his movements. Captain Rogers looks relieved and clasps the hand Sam offers. Bucky grins at Sam but it falters when he meets her eyes and he looks away.

      _Oh so you can eat my food but you can’t look me in the eye, huh,_ she thinks.

     “Nothing much. Bucky and I were just out getting something to eat,” he answers and Darcy is surprised for a second before she remembers that she hadn’t cooked lunch at all today due to the job search, “I missed you for a run this morning.”

     “Yeah, I was out helping my girl here with a job search,” Sam laughs, motioning to Darcy. Steve gives her an indifferent once-over and she feels Sam tense beside her.

    _Oh boy,_ she thinks _, I’m not sticking around for this_.

     Sam, like Natasha, thinks that they should resolve this as soon as possible. Also like Natasha, he gets protective. She nudges Sam gently with her elbow.

     “Hey, I’m gonna go check out this last one, alright? Then I’ll head back to the tower. Don’t wait up,” she says moving around him.

     He frowns.

     “You sure?”

     “Yeah, it’s no problem. Thanks again for your help and uh,” she looks at the two super-soldiers and winces, “play nice.”

     With that she turns away, giving the boys a wide berth as she makes her way towards her last hope of the day.

     

     Steve watches Darcy go, wondering what she’s hurrying off for, and turns back to find Sam glaring at him, arms crossed.

     “What?” Steve asks and Sam clicks his teeth disapprovingly.

     “Man, _do not even_ play dumb with me. I ought to push your ass into traffic. Since when is it okay to be that rude to a girl?”

     Steve blushes. He hadn’t even really realized it, it was just a knee-jerk reaction to her at this point. He looks back at Bucky who nods in agreement.

     “Yeah, I see you back there, Barnes, don’t think I don’t. You’re just as bad as he is,” Sam leans around Steve and Bucky moves in tandem to keep him between them, grinning, “I’ll throw your ass in traffic, too, white boy.”

     “I—,” Steve starts, but Sam shakes his head.

     “You owe her an apology, Steve. I love you, but you’re acting like a complete dick around her. She’s trying to apologize to you guys but y’all have been making it damn difficult.”

     “Apologize?” Steve asks, brow furrowed. He didn’t know she’d been trying. She _had_ just run off.

     “Please, like you haven’t been eating her food for the last week,” Sam says and Steve goes bug-eyed.

     “That was her?!”

     Bucky had been bringing food back from the common rooms for a couple days, now. Steve was just happy that Bucky was eating consistently but it helped that everything always tasted like it was made by a five-star chef.

     Sam frowns.

     “Your boy there not tell you?” He motions to Bucky with a tilt of his chin, “She’s the one who’s been leaving you all that food in the common room.”

     “I didn’t even know she could cook,” Steve says and looks back at Bucky accusingly. He’s studying his shoes like they hold the secret to the universe. He should have figured that Bucky was getting it from someone but he stupidly hadn’t asked; wasn’t concerned with it.

     Now he knows he should have been.

     Sam’s right. Steve owes Darcy more than apology but fuck if he wasn’t a day late and a dollar short, already.

     “There seems to be a lot of stuff you two don’t know about her. Like the fact that she does want to be your friend,” Sam says a little softer, looking at Bucky, “and she is sorry about what happened that first time between you three.”

     Bucky has the decency to look guilty and Steve scrubs a palm down his face, groaning.

     “Christ, I’m an asshole.”

     “Hey, not arguing with you there, man,” Sam laughs. Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder and gives him a sympathetic look.

     “Oh, don’t _even_ ,” Steve and Sam say together. Bucky just grins.

 

     When Darcy returns to the tower, the sun is setting. She’s tired, she’s sore, and she’s discouraged. She’s also in absolutely no mood for confronting Captain America about his dickish behavior.

     He, apparently, is all for late afternoon confrontations.

     Darcy enters the lobby of the tower and sees him leaning against a wall, looking at his shoes. She sighs tiredly and he looks up at the noise, immediately spotting her. She waves but quickly turns, moving towards the elevator and away from him.

     “Miss Lewis,” he calls, “Miss Lewis, wait, please.”

     She stops and hangs her head, six feet from the elevator. Salvation so close, but so far away. She turns back to look at him with a pout.

     “Can we do this tomorrow, Captain Rogers? I’m totally not in the mood for you glaring at me right now.”

     The Captain blushes and bites his lip.

      _Ah, so he knows he’s been a douche-nozzle, then_.

     “I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

     “I’m—what?” she does a double take.

     “I’m sorry,” he repeats, frowning with the added bonus of sad eyes a la Steve Rogers, “I have been incredibly rude to you over the past couple of weeks, in a manner that you definitely don’t deserve and my actions are inexcusable.”

     “…oh.” Darcy glances away from him and then back. Man, this guy is earnest but…

     “Oh?”

     “Yeah, I just—why though?” She asks and he furrows his brow in confusion.

     “Why what?”

     “Why were you such a…you know…”

     “Such a dick?” he finishes for her with a smirk and she blushes.

     “Not in so many words but yes,” she crosses her arms and stands up straighter.

     “I—you know, I’m not sure. Probably because I was just upset that I couldn’t protect him from you. I hadn’t had him back all that long and then you came along and...” He trails off, biting back what he might have said.

     “Protect Sergeant Barnes? From me?” Darcy almost laughs but she doesn’t want to make light of his apology. She smiles and he shakes head.

     “Yeah, yeah, I know. Pretty ridiculous, huh?”

     “It’s not,” she says, realizing he’s taken it wrong and blushing, “It’s not stupid or ridiculous to want to protect the people you love even if there’s nothing to protect them from. I get it. Sort of. Like, I would defend Natasha to the death but she could probably do it better herself. I guess what I’m saying is, you saw me as threat where I wouldn’t think of myself as such.”

     There’s silence between them at that and he’s looking at her differently now; like she’s something new to discover and he’d never seen her before. And maybe he hadn’t. Maybe neither of them had seen each other, not really.

     “I guess I should apologize, too,” she tells him after a while and he looks confused again.

     “What for?”

     “I probably could have handled that first situation better,” she refers to the first time they met, waving a hand dismissively even though she was blushing pretty hard at the memory, “I was just, I don’t know, annoyed that he dismissed me so easily, you know?”

      _What are you even talking about?_ She thinks at herself.

     “Yeah, I can understand a little of that.”

     Darcy looks up, surprised.

     “You do?” _Because I don’t._

     “Just—people underestimating you because of how you look.” He’s smiling at her again, soft and sweet. Belatedly, she remembers that Steve Rogers wasn’t always such a big guy. He’d been the underdog, too, once. She smiles back.

     “Yeah…”

     They stare at each other for a long moment and then Darcy realizes that they’ve been standing in front of the elevators, in the public lobby, having this conversation. She winces and looks around. Thankfully the lobby is empty but she’s not going to stay down here longer than she has to.

     “So, ah,” she starts and crosses her fingers, looking up at him, “I haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

     Steve blushes again and she bites the inside of her lip, hiding her victorious smirk. Yeah, he and Bucky have been getting the food. He sees it anyway, shaking his head in exasperation and throwing a half-smile her way.

     “Because I was gonna make something and I figure a movie, good food, and better company will be a nice end to the day, don’t you Captain Rogers?”

     “Steve is fine,” he replies, narrowing his eyes at her in mock suspicion, “and that sounds like a good plan.”

     “Call me Darcy,” she grins mischievously and pushes the elevator call button. The elevator arrives and she steps in as the doors slide open. She doesn’t look at him when she says, “And you can even bring your food-thief of a boyfriend.”

     But she does hear him nearly trip into the elevator behind her.

     Answer:

     Depends on who you ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's rudeness is more from inattention than anything. Sometimes he gets too wrapped up in his head or in Bucky and won't notice that he's being an idiot. It's good to make sure he knows he's still an idiot.  
> Also, head-canon that Bucky's not yet comfortable talking with people or in front of people he doesn't know. He's not sure who will or will not punish him for speaking.  
> He's still learning that no one's supposed to be punished for speaking at all. T.T Bucky baby you take your time. No hurry.


	6. The Back Alleys of Brooklyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question:  
> Who’s the biggest dork in the tower?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should be honored by my lateness,  
> That I would even show up to this fake shit.
> 
> In all serious, though, super sorry for the late update. I mean, there isn't really a schedule, but I was hoping to have kept up a pretty constant stream of chapters. I rewrote this one twice because I didn't like the direction and needed to work out some plot points. Anyway.
> 
> PINING AHOY.

Question:

Who’s the biggest dork in the tower?

 

     Darcy turns down an alley casually in an effort not to draw attention to herself. The goal for today’s training session is to stay off of the Black Widow’s radar for as long as she can using only the unfamiliar city she’s assigned.

     This time, it’s Brooklyn and so far she’s been going for two hours without catching the Widow’s attention. She thinks she may be able to go the entire five hours when the communications device in her ear buzzes.

     “Spotted,” Nat’s voice comes through crystal clear and Darcy groans.

     “What? No way!” Darcy feels a tap on her shoulder and turns to find the Black Widow grinning at her in a brown leather jacket, plain black shirt, and blue jeans tucked into black riding boots.

     “Damn it,” Darcy says crossing her arms over her chest.

     “You did well, Darcy. Two hours is a huge improvement from last time.” Natasha leans against the brick wall of the alley, propping one foot up in the wall behind her and putting her hands in her pockets. She scans the mouth of the alley for anyone suspicious.

     “Yeah, but only by twenty minutes.”

     “There’s no rush. You’ll get there,” Nat tells her with a sympathetic look.

     “Yeah, okay. I trust you. I guess lunch is on me. Again.” Darcy rolls her eyes. The rule was that if Natasha could find Darcy before the allotted five hours was up, Darcy had to pay for lunch.

     “Well, look on the bright side,” Natasha says with a smirk, “at least you have a job to pay for it now.”

     “Hardy, har, har,” Darcy retorts making her way towards the street as Natasha trails behind her. Darcy is more than happy to pay for Natasha’s lunch; a small way to pay her back for the year on the run and her continued generosity in sharing her apartment.

     “How is it, by the way? Your job.”

     “It’s good. I enjoy it and I’m actually using my degree to some extent so it could be worse,” Darcy shrugs nonchalantly but the excited grin on her face belies the easy gesture.

     Darcy had gotten a call back from none other than MSF USA, or ‘Doctors without Borders’, and was working in their New York headquarters organizing aid to foreign soil while using her degree and her connections to ensure the doctors’ safety. It was more than good. It was fantastic. She felt like she was doing something helpful; something worth it.

     Darcy understands the importance for superheroes like Natasha, she does. The need for immediate protection, immediate action, won’t go away and she’s grateful for their fight. But the problems of the world persist after the war is over. Working with MSF USA makes her feel like she’s helping to take care of those problems in some small way at the very least.

     Best of all, it’s a _normal_ way to help. Anyone can do it because it doesn’t take superpowers or ten years in the military. Just someone with a heart and a will to work for humanity.

     “I’m just surprised they haven’t fired you yet.”

     Darcy registers those words and whirls around, panicked, to find Natasha looking at her with a very serious, sympathetic face. Her panic increases.

     “What? Why would they fire me? Do you know something? NAT. NATASHA.”

     Damn it, she really likes her job!

     Natasha’s face breaks into a grin and she starts to giggle.

     “I only meant that with how much time you spend with Barnes&Noble it’s a miracle you even get to work at all. Tell me, are you three attached at the hip? It’s almost weird how close you three have gotten in the last few months.”

     Darcy blushes at the mention of Steve and Bucky and smacks Nat on the arm. Something that Nat allows her to do. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have gotten close.

     “Dude, I fucking thought you knew something I didn’t, you dickwad! God, don’t do that,” Darcy hits her again for good measure but she’s grinning while Natasha shoos her hand away.

     “I know a lot of things you don’t and stop avoiding the question. I saw you blush,” Natasha accuses.

     Darcy opens her mouth to speak, finds nothing to say, and closes it again. She smiles as she starts walking again. Natasha walks at her side and waits with her normal patience for Darcy to find her words.

     “I never thought we would end up being such good friends,” she says, thinking about the two boys with fondness, “like, maybe we would have been able to forgive each other and then basically just ignore one another after that, but…I honestly don’t know what I’d do without them, anymore.”

     “I think I should be offended,” Natasha says as she motions to a small café. Darcy goes in first and picks the most defensible table. Natasha nods in approval.

     “Aw, Nat, are you jealous?” Darcy asks as a waiter hands them their menus.

     “Yes, absolutely. Now I have to fight both of them for your hand in marriage.”

     Darcy laughs. Natasha is always joking that she's going to marry Darcy just to keep others from proposing to her so often.

     “You’d have to fight that kid, too, remember?”

     Natasha narrows her eyes.

     “I could take him.”

     “Gee I don’t know, boss. Kid’s pretty tough,” Darcy says, imitating a thick Brooklyn accent.

     “Jesus, Barnes never should have taught you to speak that way. I should wash your mouth out with soap. That’s disgusting—you’re disgusting.” Natasha makes a face and Darcy laughs again. The waiter returns and they place their orders, handing off their menus.

     They chat idly through their lunch until Darcy’s phone goes off. It’s a text message from Steve. Darcy grins like an idiot as she opens it.

      _SR: Bucky burned the curry. Help. We’re starving._

     “I think they only keep me around for my cooking,” Darcy laughs and shows Natasha. Nat rolls her eyes.

      _DL: Bucky could burn water. You’re on your own, motherfucka, I’m out with the bae._

      _SR: Natasha again?! Damn her. We’re already fighting Sam for your affection, how many more are there?_

_DL: My suitors are many, Steven._

     Darcy’s phone chimes again with the alert she’d set for Bucky.

      _BB: I will give you two potato._

     Darcy snorts before answering him.

      _DL: Deal. We ride at midnight. Bring potato. Leave the blonde._

_SR: HEY!_

_DL: Actually don’t bring potato because you probably burned it._

_BB: Ouch, doll. Ouch._

_SR: Oh, man. That was brutal, Darce. I don’t think he’s going to be able to survive that. That was a fatal wounding, right there. Looks like you’ll have to take me instead. ;)_

_BB: It was a NEAR fatal wobeyukgho.;gkyddrt_

_DL: ????_

_BB: I’m gedtoljho betterlohli_

_DL: ???Bucky what???_

_BB: FUCKING ROGERS ISFkiygikhiuhlyifythd_

_SR: He’s flat-lining. We’ll have to go on withslnrh;ginahuwnbhlubal$WIh90_

_SR: Withoutojohirha_

_SR: oihihihim_

_SR: FUC4wu98ahn9 HIM_

_DL: …Sam and I are eloping._

_SR: NOOOOOOOOOOO_

_BB: TRAITOR_

_DL: Funny story, Natasha is ordained. I technically could marry Sam whenever._

     Darcy’s phone chimed with Sam’s alert.

      _SW: What shit are you stirring up now?_

_DL: I have no idea what you’re talking about._

_SW: Uh-huh, so you don’t know why Dumb and Dumber have just challenged me to pistols at dawn?????_

     Darcy bursts out laughing, nearly knocking her glass off the table when she smacks it with her palm.

      _DL: I’ll be your second if it makes you feel any better._

_SW: It doesn’t._

     “Am I even here anymore, or…?” Natasha gets Darcy’s attention and notices the smile on her face; exuberant, sweet, warm. Darcy blushes.

     “My bad.”

     Natasha stares at her. Darcy squirms.

     “What?”

     “Nothing. Are you dating anyone?”

     “Why, are you interested?” Darcy waggles her brows and Natasha smirks.

     “Only in setting you up.”

     “Aw, Nat, you’re breaking my heart,” Darcy pouts.

     “Mm,” Nat hums nonchalantly at the accusation and checks her watch, “We should get back before your boys think I’ve taken you out of the country or something.”

     “They’re not _my_ boys, Nat,” Darcy denies, blushing once again. _God, I must have the worst poker-face_ , she thinks. Natasha just snorts and stands up as Darcy pays the bill.

     They really aren’t her boys, as much as she wishes they were. She, Steve, and Bucky have gotten ridiculously close over these past few months and Darcy can’t deny that most of her free time is spent with both of them close by. She’s rarely apart from them without constant back-and-forth over text. But they're still no more than friends.

      “Whatever you say,” Natasha says as she holds the door open for Darcy. Darcy curtsies exaggeratedly and Nat rolls her eyes. Darcy texts the two super-soldiers about her and Nat’s imminent return and they make their way back to the tower in companionable silence, enjoying the day while Darcy gets lost in her own head.

     Darcy thinks about her relationship with Steve and Bucky and admits that she can see why Nat would call them ‘her boys’. She probably cares for them more than anyone else in the tower, including Jane. She thinks about how the three of them are constantly touching as well, not just Steve and Bucky, but Darcy and Steve and Darcy and Bucky. They curl up on the couch together, she links their arms all the time, holds their hands. Hell, they give her piggy-back rides and foot massages…

     She’s happiest when they’re around. She’s most content. She feels safest…

     Lately, she gets butterflies in their presence as well. She gets excited to see them and lights up like her phone with each text.

     She’s fallen for them.

      _Both_ of them.

     Sweet Steve Rogers and Charming Bucky Barnes have her wrapped around their metaphorical finger and she can’t ever let them know. Even if there was a chance, she could never choose anyway.

     She sighs as they get closer to the tower, trying to banish her morose thoughts as she turns to Natasha with a smile.

     Natasha looks like she knows it’s fake.

     “So, same time tomorrow or…?”

     Natasha shakes her head, giving Darcy a look before heading towards the lobby elevators. Steve and Bucky are standing by the Avengers’ elevator, obviously waiting for her. They light up when they see her, and Darcy grins. Man, she loves these guys.

     “Can’t. I have a mission starting tomorrow. Don’t know when I’ll be back,” Natasha answers as they come to a stop by the guys. Darcy frowns.

     “What time do you go?” She knows better than to ask what it’s about.

     “Jet gets here in a half hour.”

     “Do you want me to stay with you?” Darcy asks. She knows from experience that Natasha doesn’t like to be touched or comforted after a mission, preferring to be alone then (unlike the boys) but she does take comfort in the preemptive cuddle every now and then. However, Natasha shakes her head, stepping onto the elevator as it arrives and blocking Darcy and the boys from getting on.

     “Not this time, сестренка,” she smiles as the doors close.

     Darcy frowns at them hard before Bucky gets her attention by taking her hand. She startles before squeezing it and smiling at him. He smiles back, understanding in his eyes as he pushes the call button again. He’d once told her that besides him and Clint, Darcy was probably the one who knew Tasha best out of anybody.

     “So,” Steve says, taking her other hand, “dinner and a movie?”

     She knows they're trying to cheer her up. She always gets sad when Natasha has a solo mission. She gets sad when _anyone_ has a solo mission. Just because they can do it alone doesn't mean they should.

     “I take it you guys still couldn’t make anything edible?” Darcy sasses back with a raised eyebrow and both of the boys look embarrassed. The elevator dings and they step through the opening doors.

     “We’re hopeless without you, doll,” Bucky tells her. Darcy would say something snarky to that but the way he said it was very sincere; he meant every word. She looks up to see both of the men staring at her with a warmth that she tries not to mistake for anything more. She clears her throat around a sudden lump and smiles back and despite everything, it’s genuine as well.

     “What did you want to eat? Actually, more importantly, what haven’t you burned?”

     A general chorus of denial and indignation goes up from the boys as the elevator ascends and Darcy just smiles as she listens to them fight over whose fault the burnt curry really was.

     Answer:

     Obviously Steeb and Binky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is asexual in this fic because I needed a cuddly asexual assassin.  
> Also, I feel like Natasha comes up with stupid couple names for Steve and Bucky.  
> Natasha calls Darcy "Sis" in Russian


	7. Stuck In The Lab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question:  
> Why does no one remember that Darcy has an actual facts job?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forecast calls for:  
> More pining  
> A hint of plot  
> Gal pals  
> Another apology for not updating.
> 
> Also, I'm running out of chapter titles.

     Question:

     Why does no one remember that Darcy has an actual facts job?

 

     “So there’s been one anomaly in Azerbaijan that disappeared nearly as soon as it showed up but the anomaly was such a _huge_ spike and _completely_ different from any Bifrost activity I’ve seen so far. I ran it by Thor and he said that it wasn’t anything from Asgard,” Jane says, running around her lab and with a scroll trail of printed data.

     Darcy and Sam are standing in the doorway of the lab arms crossed as they watch her run back and forth while explaining _something_ completely out of context. She’d already been talking when they’d arrived. From the looks of the two frazzled and almost scared interns Darcy had trained, she hadn’t been making sense to them either. And they had actual science degrees.

     “Jane,” Darcy sighs, “we just came to ask you to go to lunch.”

     Steve and Bucky were waiting in the lobby for them since the labs made them a little tense. Well, it made Steve tense. Bucky was simultaneously tense and a complete dork around the robotics.

     When he was having a good day, and was down in the labs, he would annoy Stark with endless questions about whatever he saw. Stark would good naturedly answer them (they got along surprisingly well) and let Bucky mess around with some piece of tech or another that nobody else could really understand.

     Bucky was incredibly intelligent when it came to robotics. For the most part, he handled maintenance on his own arm by himself. Sometimes she would walk into their apartment to find Bucky sitting in the kitchen with a few panels open on his arm, a few tools on the counter nearby and Steve holding up a mirror and magnifying glass.

     When she’d first walked in on that happening, they had both frozen stiff. Bucky had started looking cautious and small, shoulders hunching up near his ears while Steve was obviously gearing up for a fight.

     “Oh! My bad,” Darcy had said, feeling all kinds of awkward as she stood in the doorway, “Do you want me to go?”

     Steve had looked to Bucky for the answer but he was still sitting like he was waiting for her to hurt him. She’d been simultaneously angry at whomever had made him feel that way about his own body and guilty for making him uncomfortable. He still hadn’t answered and Darcy didn’t want to just leave and risk him thinking she was disgusted by him or something (quite the opposite, actually).

     “Bucky?” She’d hesitated before stepping forward, “Do you want me to leave?”

     Steve looked back and forth between the two of them, eyes softening and stance relaxing a little when he realized Darcy wasn’t going to freak out about the arm. It’s not like she hadn’t seen it before it’s just that this was the first time it was on full display. She didn’t really have a problem with it. It was Bucky’s arm and to her, he’d never been any other way. She loved that part of him just like she loved the rest of him.

     Not that he knows that.

     “Just say the word and I’m gone, Buck.” She’d tried to make it sound chipper and light.

     “No,” he’d said, almost too quietly to hear. Steve searched Bucky’s face which was still turned away from her. He looked at her and gave her a tentative smile as Bucky’s shoulders slowly fell back to their previous position.

     “You don’t have to,” he’d said more confidently. He still wasn’t looking at her, “You can stay. If you want.”

     “Oh, good,” she’d replied, bolstering her courage and stepping the rest of the way into the kitchen. She’d leaned on the breakfast bar where he was sitting to fix his arm and gave Bucky a cheeky smile when he’d finally looked at her. She stole one of their bananas out of their fruit basket (it’s not like they ate them, anyway. She thinks they keep them around for her.).

     “I like hanging out with you guys,” she told them genuinely. She gave them her brightest smile and threw Bucky a wink for good measure before pealing the banana and tearing off half to stick in her mouth.

     After that, it was easier to be around Bucky. He relaxed with her and she relaxed with him. He started to trust her. She started to fall even more for the two idiots. One night, she’d even slipped up when they were away on a mission, going down to sleep on their couch instead of in her own bed. She’d meant to disappear before they got back but they’d arrived home in the middle of the night to find her watching Bob’s Burgers on their Netflix account.

     She hadn’t even gotten the chance to be embarrassed or apologize. They’d just plopped down on the couch on either side of her—still in uniform and smelling like gun-metal and sweat.

     Suddenly, it had become routine for her to end up at the boys’ place while they were away and each time they came back she was struck again by how much they trusted her to allow her to be alone in their home. Each time they ended up curled up on the couch and each time she fell a little more in love with her soldiers.

     It wasn’t the only routine the three of them got into. It was common for her and the boys or her and Sam to go out for lunch together since Darcy _has a fucking job_ and can't cook for them _all the fucking time_. She tries to drag Jane along when she can and give the baby scientists a break from her manic Science!ing.

     Like right now.

     “Lunch can wait, Darcy. Look at this!” Jane grabs Darcy by the arm on her next pass with a strength that Darcy has always found surprising for a woman her size. She drags Darcy over and plops her in front of one of her monitors. She points at a line of data.

     “Right here. Do you see this spike?”

     “Yeah, what about it?”

     “Doesn’t it look familiar?”

     “Jane, I don’t know,” Darcy says looking at the sharp spike in the data graph, eyes scanning numbers that probably look like something to Jane, “it just looks like a random—wait a minute.”

     Her eyes scan the numbers again and she realize that they’ve only ever gotten readings like that twice before.

     Once when Loki had arrived with the ‘cradle’ and the other when the Aether had come to earth.

     “Shit, Fuck.”

     “See?”

     “Yeah,” Darcy answers distractedly as she pulls up the files they recorded in Tromsø just before the Alien invasion. She overlaps them.

     “Oh. Why didn’t I think of that?” Jane asks as she watches the images match up.

     “Because you don’t need the visual to figure it out,” Darcy chuckles.

     “Um, guys?” Sam’s still standing in the doorway, confused, “I thought we were going to lunch.”

     Darcy looks at him and then the screen in front of her. She pulls up the data from London.

     “Um, yeah,” she drawls, watching those images match up as well, “about that. You’re gonna have to tell the boys that something came up? It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes!” She hurries to add as Sam gives her an unimpressed look.

     Sam shakes his head and moves towards the elevator.

     “Fine, but don’t take more than fifteen. I ain’t gonna sit around with them moping because you decided science was more interesting than them.”

     Darcy smiles as he goes and then turns back to Jane.

     “So what is it? Another alien thingamajig?”

     Jane gives her a look.

     “Very scientific, Darcy.”

     “What? I’m not the scientist here. All I know is, whatever this is,” she points to the spike on the screen, “it’s as powerful as the magic wand Loki used to try and take over the world. And as powerful as the float-y, red stuff you were cursed with.”

      “Aether, Darcy,” Jane says with a fond a smile, “it’s called Aether.”

     “It’s called a shit storm, Jane,” Darcy crosses her arms and leans back in the chair, “This needs to be investigated. We need to know what this thing is and what it does.”

     “Absolutely. We’ll go there this weekend. I have the coordinates and we can borrow Tony’s jet,” Jane starts as she heads across the lab for another printed data sheet.

     “Whoa, whoa, whoa slow down. What do you mean ‘we’?”

     Jane gives her an impatient look.

     “As my assistant, I’m going to need you there so we can figure this out in the most efficient manner.”

     Darcy points at the baby scientists standing quietly in the corner.

     “Jane, they’re your assistants. I have a job, remember?”

     “What? Since when?” Jane asks, turning towards her with an armful of a files. She gives them to Darcy before turning away again. Darcy rolls her eyes and sets them on the table.

     “Um, since about a month ago, Jane.”

     “Do you work this weekend?”

     “Um, no.”

     “Then you can come with me. It’ll be fun! We haven’t gotten nearly killed together for _months_ , Darcy, c’mon,” Jane sasses, giving Darcy a smirk as she passes by with even _more_ files.

     “Why do you have all these hard copies? I thought I transferred all your research to the hard drives,” Darcy questions, taking these as well.

     “I know but I like having the paper in my hands, you know?”

     Jane props a hip on the table and crosses her arms, shooting her an excited smile.

     “Now, are you coming or not?”

     Darcy sighs.

     Answer:

     Because Jane called dibs on her _soul_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jane doesn't have energy readings from the tesseract because they *coughinfinitygemscough* only spike when they ~arrive~ on earth. The tesseract arrived ~way~ before Jane was even born. Therefore, no data.


	8. Up In The Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question:  
> What’s the deal with airline food?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ringing review: "Wait a minute, I thought this fic was supposed to be funny?" - My friend.  
> "Meh," - Lisa Simpson
> 
> DUMB BOYFRIENDS BEING LOVEY DOVEY?!?!?!?!?  
> HOW DAR
> 
> As always, tell me if there are any errors and also comment or kudos! Tell me what you think!

     Question:

     What’s the deal with airline food?

 

     Come the weekend, Darcy is packed and ready to go, already down in the labs marking certain machines with colored tape to denote which ones were coming with them and which were staying. Jane is packing up some of the equipment they’d used in New Mexico and Bucky’s busy glaring at them from the doorway.

     “Are you sure we can’t come along?”

     Darcy looks over at Steve who’s lounging against a bank of monitors and trying to seem at ease. Jane comes over and unceremoniously pushes him out of the way to access the computers.

     “Positive, Steve,” Darcy replies with a smile. She turns, marking another machine, “You’re _technically_ still American military personnel and we don’t have the time to go through the right channels which would allow you to act as our bodyguard on foreign soil. Also, Bucky is still a wanted fugitive over there.”

     Bucky lets out an annoyed huff and rolls his eyes.

     “Besides, Thor’s coming with us. He’s got diplomatic immunity everywhere on Earth so he can totally kill someone if he needs to,” Darcy adds on.

     Steve still seems uncertain about the whole thing. Bucky huffs again, mumbling something about subtlety and winey soviets.

     Darcy stands up and leans back against the machine she’d just marked for transport.

     “Look, I’ll keep in touch, guys. You’ll get text updates every day. It’s only going to be Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.”

     “You hope,” Jane adds as she passes between her and Steve, finally done on the monitors. Darcy isn’t sure if that was meant for Steve or her. _Either way_ , she thinks, _doesn’t bode well for me. Or my sleep schedule_.

     “Every hour,” Steve corrects in his ‘Captain America Voice’, arms crossed.

     Darcy narrows her eyes at him. He shuffles uncomfortably.

     “Every two hours…?”

     No ‘Captain’ voice this time. Bucky snickers and she sees Steve shoot him a dirty look.

     She adds a tilted head, eyes still narrowed. He blushes and sighs.

     “C’mon, Darce, at least _twice_ a day,” he bargains. He’s using those Goddamn Puppy-dog Eyes™, the ones Darcy _knows_ are fake— _so_ fake—but just can’t resist. Captain America is a damn dirty cheat. Darcy purses her lips before nodding her agreement.

     “Please refrain from anything else, though, because Stark doesn’t pay for my phone bill like he pays for yours,” she jokes.

     Steve’s face lights up and he sends her a lopsided grin.

     “I can deal with that,” he says, still blindingly bright. Darcy blushes and turns back to the machine she’s already marked, playing with the tape.

     “Christ, Rogers, tone it down a bit. You’re gonna blind the poor gal and then how’s she gonna take care of herself,” Bucky saunters over. Darcy punches him in his shoulder and he smirks at her. She can see the concern he’s hiding underneath it, though.

     Which, Darcy can understand from someone who’s loved Steve ‘Fight-Me’ Rogers since they were Brooklyn boys. From how he tells it, anytime Steve was out of his direct line of site the dude was getting himself into trouble.

     “At least then she won’t have to see your ugly mug, Buck,” Steve shoots back, winking at Darcy. Darcy laughs as Bucky makes an offended noise.

     “Dumb Punk.”

     “Stupid Jerk.”

     “Alright, alright, if you don’t mind,” Darcy interrupts, “Jane and I have to get these heavy and severely outdated—,”

     “Hey!” Jane intones from somewhere behind her.

     “—Machines up to the roof for transport. If you’re not going to do the heavy lifting, you can get the fuck out.”

     Bucky immediately straightens from his position next to Darcy and moves towards the door.

     “Welp, looks like we can’t do anything more here, Steve, let’s—,”

     Steve grabs Bucky’s shoulder on his way past and gives Darcy another grin.

     “We’d be happy to help, Darcy.”

     Bucky groans dramatically.

 

     Darcy is the _antithesis_ of everything Hydra.

     Bucky’s unsure how it was possible that he thought the woman he knows now was ever Hydra.

     She’d once come into the lab with a guitar that she didn’t even know how to play, jumped on a table, and danced while belting out Monsters and Men songs until Jane had joined her. She gave all the Roombas glitter bombs and programmed them to follow Tony around the tower. She left Steve different reports and books with unusual perspectives on social movements he’s missed, stating that it was necessary to see all sides of a story (not just the side SHIELD decided to tell him). She’d bought them a record player (even with her measly income) after she’d heard that Steve’s had been damaged in the scuffle. She made Bucky playlists with strict instructions to skip and write down any songs he dislikes so she can remove them for his comfort.

      _His_ comfort, she’d said. Like that was something that was _important_.

     She’s chaos and kindness and understanding all wrapped up in a curvy package.

     And he’s just letting her run off alone with barely any back up.

     He sets the last of the machines down inside the StarkJet and turns to watch her as she settles Jane with a StarkPad and a sandwich. Maria Hill is doing a final pre-flight check in the cockpit.

     There’s a nervous feeling in his stomach that hasn’t gone away since Darcy had let them know she was leaving. Neither he nor Steve like the idea of Darcy so far away from them but they understand that they’re not in any position to stop her, considering.

     “I wonder if this is how she feels when we or Nat go away,” Steve says quietly, moving up the ramp to stand beside Bucky. Bucky leans into him, soaking up the comfort of Steve’s presence and letting it calm him a little. He knows he’s a little high strung right now and he knows Steve can tell, even if no one else can.

     He’s not sure how well he’s going to handle having Darcy so far away. In the short months he’s gotten to know her, Darcy has become an irreplaceable part of his life and his support system.

     Bucky loves Steve. Steve is all the parts of himself he forgot. Steve’s the man who pulls him out of the fire and stands by his side and reminds Bucky who he is and where he comes from. Steve is good, warm, and kind.

     But he’s tired, lost, and hard just like Bucky. They’re two men far from where they started and while Bucky appreciates Steve being his connection to the past, Darcy is the future. For each other, Bucky and Steve are reminders of who they’ve been and who they are.

     Darcy shows them who they _could_ be.

     When they’ve both been on a mission—when they’re tired and sore and have had too much of each other and too much of death—they return to find her sleeping on their couch; worried and waiting up on them. She’ll stay late and sit between them because it makes them easy and comfortable; because they need to feel like they’re protecting something good.

     And, god, Bucky doesn’t know how they did it before; how they came home to something empty and didn’t just break down with how dark and empty they felt. He can feel it now, every time she’s there, he feels full and warm and _good_ and—and—

     And yeah, he’s fallen for her. Hard.

     He hasn’t talked to Steve about it yet but he can tell the punk feels the same; he sees the way he looks at Darcy—the very same way he looks at Bucky.

     Darcy finishes with Jane and turns to them with a smile that makes Bucky’s chest tight.

     “I’ll text you when we land, okay?” She tells them earnestly, making her way over to them. She spreads her arms in invitation and Bucky immediately moves into her, wrapping her up in his arms while Steve joins in on her other side. They squish her between them for probably a solid minute. On some level, Bucky realizes this isn’t a thing that normal friends do—all this touching and shit—it’s more like with him and Steve, but none of them can actually bring themselves to give a damn.

      He and Steve stay on the platform until the StarkJet is out of sight.

 

     “So, is Thor going to be meeting us over there or what?” Darcy asks Jane. She’s sitting in the co-pilot seat next to Maria, watching as Jane fiddles with various devices.

     Jane looks over at them from where she’s calibrating one of her machines. Her eyebrows come together and she shakes her head.

     “Thor’s not meeting us,” Jane says. Darcy startles at the news.

     “Um, what?”

     “Thor isn’t going to be able to meet us there. He’s on Asgard, researching as to what this mysterious object might be.”

     Darcy processes that, looks over at Maria questioningly. Maria shakes her head.

     “Sorry, I’m just transportation,” she deadpans.

     Darcy looks back at Jane.

     “No one’s coming with us.”

     “Nope.”

     “Just us, two women, in a country whose opinions on women are less than ideal and still adhere to some old soviet ideologies…”

     Jane pauses in her work.

     “Okay, I can see why that might be an issue but I mean, you’re trained right?”

     “I told Steve and Bucky that Thor was going to be with us,” Darcy states, pinching the bridge of her nose.

     “Yes, but if you hadn’t told them that, your boyfriends wouldn’t have let you go.”

     “Okay, first of all, they’re not my boyfriends. Secondly, they can’t ‘let me’ do anything, Jane. They have no control over me or my decisions.”

     “Then does it _really_ matter?” Jane asks, biting her lip guiltily.

     Darcy stares at her incredulously.

     “Yes! I don’t want them to worry!”

     “Well, then you definitely shouldn’t tell them we’re doing this alone.”

     Darcy makes an unintelligible gurgling noise and slumps down in her seat.

     “Um, I believe in you?” Jane tries again.

     Darcy slumps out of her chair and onto the floor of the StarkJet.

     “Are you sure you want to be laying on the floor of a _Stark_ Jet, Miss Lewis?” Maria asks impassively.

     Darcy immediately stands up.

 

     Steve lasts two hours before he checks his phone and then it’s all downhill from there. He checks his phone constantly—even though he knows Darcy shouldn’t land for at least twelve hours, yet—and at one point, Bucky just takes it from him.

     They stay away from the tower and the apartment after Darcy leaves by mutual unspoken agreement. Between their restlessness and worry they both figure it’s a better idea to keep themselves busy. They go for a mid-morning run in central park, they visit the children’s hospital, they Skype call Peggy from a café in Brooklyn (and it’s always funny to watch Peggy and Bucky interact with each other; every conversation practically starts with ‘look at this idiot that we both love’ and devolves from there), and meet up with Sam for a trip to the museum.

     Steve thought this time apart would be like before they’d even met Darcy but it’s not. It’s not bad. It’s fun, actually, and any chance Steve can get to run around with his best guy is a good day in his book, but…

     It’s never been so obvious that they’ve got a piece missing.

     It’s never been so obvious how much he’s in love with Darcy Lewis.

     The entire Skype call with Peggy, he’s thinking how well she and Darcy would get along (Darcy loves any story they can tell her about the incredible Agent Carter). When they go to the museum, he catches himself opening his mouth to ask her a question about some history or another or to share some thought only to remember she’s not there. He reaches for his phone to text her only to remember that he’s not supposed to. And also that Bucky still has it.

     It’s not until late in the evening that they finally return to their apartment and Bucky hands him back his cellphone. Bucky kisses him for good measure, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in to slot their lips together and Steve melts into it as he always does, heart beating a little faster at the look in Bucky’s eyes when he pulls away. He’s grinning at Bucky as he opens the door so it’s Bucky who sees the gifts Darcy left them first, though Steve’s quick to follow Bucky’s shocked line of sight.

     There, sitting on their foyer table, is a book for Steve on the Amazonians (something he and Darcy had been discussing), three large dishes all covered in tinfoil (one of paprikash, one of stuffed Colcannon, and another of Caramel Apple Sharlotka), and Darcy’s old iPod with two new playlists for Bucky.

     Later, wrapped up together in bed, after the dinner Darcy left them and an hour or two of lounging around reading and listening to music, Steve’s phone finally buzzes with a text from Darcy.

     DL: _EVERYTHING IS STUCK IN CUSTOMS FUCK (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻_

     Bucky laughs for a solid three minute before Steve kisses down his chest to shut him up.

     Answer:

     Actually, StakJets are pretty well stocked… Is that champagne?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcannon that the cake (Russian in origin) she learned to make for Natasha. It's Natasha's favorite! Colcannon is a traditional Irish dish and the country that Jane and Darcy are headed to is called Azerbaijan! They have oil and Persian rugs. Culturally, they don't think much of women, like in a lot of places. Politically, they're still a little soviet. I've learned that things get 'stuck' in customs over there a lot of times. You gotta pay the right people to get em back...


	9. Across The Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question:  
> When is a Stevie not a Stevie?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's some ladies taking charge, dumb boyfronds being worried, and more implied sex that I'm not capable of writing.  
> Please don't look too closely at my story or you'll find that it's fucking filled with plot holes.  
> As always, thanks to Pythia for the beta read.

Question:

When is a Stevie not a Stevie?

     The next morning, they discover that the site of the anomaly is right smack dab in the middle of a Russian oil field in Azerbaijan’s flatlands.

     It couldn’t be on the beach, near a resort or something, of course not. It _had_ to be the heavily guarded, extremely powerful Russian Oil General Corporation.

     Jane manages to piss off the manger within ten minutes of meeting him.

     Which is fine (not really) because it gives Darcy just enough time to count the armed guards and realize that there are way, way too many men with guns for someplace that’s supposedly just an oil company. Darcy’s never been to Azerbaijan but she’s been to other oil fields and she’s never seen this many _heavily armed soldiers_ guarding one well.

     And no workers.

     Darcy counts twenty six men all together but not a single Oil worker while Jane continues to argue with the ‘manager’.

     So, there are about twenty armed men more than an oil company would need at a site like this, but about twenty armed men less than an ancient alien artifact with magical powers would call for.

      _That’s a bit worrying_ , she thinks.

     She notices Jane start to get up into the manager’s face and decides a hasty retreat is the best course of action.

     “ _Please forgive my friend, she’s not very good at interacting with humans. We’ll get out of your hair, sir,_ ” Darcy tells the man in Russian. She’s very glad that Russian is a widely used second language here because she doesn’t know if she can learn Azerbaijani in only three days.

     She grabs Jane, who’s still trying to argue with the (very tall, very muscley, and very heavily armed) man, and frog-marches her back to their rental van.

     “Darcy, what the fuck?”

     “We can’t go in there, Jane,” Darcy says, starting the van and pulling out onto the road. Jane stares at her in disbelief for a minute before she scoffs.

     “Um, yes? We can?” she pulls a piece of paper out of the messenger bag she’s wearing, “It says so right here. We have permission to investigate the site of the anomaly, sanctioned by the Azerbaijani government.”

     “Yes, but that’s if it’s on Azerbaijan’s soil.”

     “It is on Azerbaijan’s soil!” Jane exclaims.

     “No, Jane! It’s not! It’s in the middle of a _fucking Russian oil field_ owned by the _largest fucking oil_ company in Russia! Setting up shop there would be akin to storming the Russian embassy and planting an American flag in its lobby!”

     “That seems a little overdramatic,” Jane mutters.

     “Yeah, well, the Russians are very overdramatic,” Darcy snaps back. She maneuvers between cars, taking a convoluted route back to their hotel. When she’s sure they’re not being followed she doubles back, turning into the parking lot. She parks the car and the two friends sit in silence for a minute. Jane’s looking down at the paper in her lap, a frown on her face.

     Darcy grimaces, feeling guilty and a little ashamed for snapping at her friend like that. Jane’s pretty thick-skinned, unsusceptible to criticism and ridicule from even the biggest names in science, but when it comes to the opinions of the people she loves, she can be a little hard on herself.

     “Sorry,” Darcy sighs.

     “No, it’s okay. You’re probably right,” Jane says, still looking at the paper in her hands.

     “Yeah, probably but I didn’t have to be such a dick about it,” Darcy replies, looking over at Jane. Jane looks up with a small smile and reaches for one of Darcy’s hands. They sit like that that until Jane speaks.

     “Apology accepted.”

     Darcy smiles.

     “But we can’t just not retrieve the item,” Jane continues, hopping out of the van. Darcy scrambles to follow, still on alert.

     “Obviously not,” Darcy agrees, following Jane into the lobby and then onto an elevator.

     “Whatever this item is it’s powerful. It can’t just fall into anybody’s hands. God knows what Russia or even America could do with it.”

     Darcy nods as she pushes the button for their floor before leaning against the wall of the lift.

     “But is it any safer with Stark or you, Jane?” Darcy frowns, “Because, no offense, but you can get a little carried away when it comes to science.”

     Jane purses her lips but shakes her head.

     “You’re right. I’m not sure if Stark and I are the best idea either. But who then?” Jane wonders, biting her thumb nail in thought.

     The elevator sounds their arrival and they both shuffle out and down the hall towards their room. Darcy stays in front of Jane, using all her senses to look for signs of danger before letting Jane inside the suite. Jane rolls her eyes.

     “Well, excuse me, Jane but you’re the one who decided to forgo any sort of security,” Darcy crosses her arms and gives Jane an unimpressed look, “if we’d at least brought Thor we’d be better off. I mean, you’re a world renowned—,”

     “THOR!” Jane shouts, startling Darcy. Jane looks at her expectantly. She looks at the astrophysicist in confusion.

      _Sometimes, I just don’t follow her logic_ , Darcy thinks. Jane’s obviously waiting for a reply.

     “…Yes…” Darcy tries, still not seeing the point, “Thor…is not here?”

     Jane rolls her eyes again.

     “No, dufus, I mean we’ll give the item to Thor. He can take it back to Asgard.”

     Darcy perks up.

     “Oh! Hey, yeah. Good idea, Jane,” Darcy bumps their shoulders together, “See this is why you’re the genius.”

     “Aw, thanks,” Jane preens.

     “Now we just have to get the space thing.”

     Jane deflates.

 

      _DL: Do either of you have any tips for infiltrating what might be a secret, quasi-military bunker disguised as a Russian oil company?_

     Steve spits out his water all over Tony. Across the training room he hears a weight clatter to the floor just before Bucky curses loudly, hopping up and down on one foot while brandishing his phone in the air.

      _Oh good_ , Steve thinks, _he got it too._

     “Rogers what the fuck,” Tony says, drawing his attention back to the short man in front of him. Prior to being on the wrong end of a spit take, he was telling Steve about some adjustments he’d made to the battle simulator. Now he looks like Steve just murdered his first-born.

     “Sorry, Tony,” Steve grimaces, “just got some surprising news, that’s all.”

     “I’ll fucking say!” Bucky shouts from across the room.

     Tony perks up, forgetting his soaked state for the moment. Steve offers him his towel.

     “What? What news? About what?” Tony questions, wiping his face with Steve’s towel.

     “Nothing, Tony, just some news from Darcy,” Steve tries to minimize Tony’s interest.

     “Why is it so alarming? Is she pregnant?” Tony gasps, “Is it yours?!”

     “What?! No! Darcy isn’t pregnant, Tony! Jesus!”

     “That you know of,” Tony adds with a pointed finger, eyebrows raised.

     “Tony, she’s not pregnant,” says Bucky as he limps over.

     “Well, is she hurt?” Tony seems surprisingly concerned about the one he had dubbed ‘mini widow’ (a title Darcy wore with pride, actually). Steve and Bucky give him an odd look.

     “What? I can’t care about those under my employ?” He asks testily, crossing his arms and then uncrossing them when he remembers he’s covered in Steve’s spit. He makes another disgusted face.

     “Technically,” Bucky says, “she’s under Miss Potts’ employ.”

     “You know what? That’s not important right now. What’s important right now is that I am covered in your boyfriend’s disgusting body fluids and not in a good way—,”

     Steve blushes and Bucky face-palms.

     “—I’m gonna go decontaminate myself and leave you to take care of...whatever Darcy’s doing,” Tony waves his arm to encompass the two men and their phones before moving towards the gym doors, grumbling and making retching noises.

     Steve doesn’t even wait until he’s out of ear shot before dialing Darcy’s number.

     “Steve, what did I tell you about my phone bill,” she answers.

     “Darce, doll, why do you need tips on infiltrating a military base?” Bucky asks sweetly, ignoring her mostly joking statement.

     “I said it was a maybe-quasi-military bunker, Bucky. Completely different.”

     “Oh, well, in _that_ case,” Steve says sarcastically. Darcy sighs.

     “Look, I’m not saying this is a good idea. It is completely, 100% the opposite of a good idea but it is necessary,” she tells them, “This is time sensitive stuff and I’m the only one around who can do this.”

     “What about Thor?” Steve wonders. There’s silence from the other end of the line. Bucky and Steve look at one another, realization dawning.

     “Thor’s not there, is he, Darcy,” Bucky guesses, still looking at Steve.

     “In my defense, I didn’t know he wasn’t going to be with us until after we got in the air.”

     Steve closes his eyes, forefinger and thumb coming up to massage the bridge of his nose.

     “And _after_ you landed you didn’t tell us because…” Steve snaps at her.

     “It wouldn’t have made a difference. Don't talk to me like I'm dumb,” Darcy snaps back. Steve grimaces.

     “Wouldn’t have made a difference?!” Bucky shouts in disbelief, “We could have been on the next flight over!”

     “And yet again I remind you that you both are too visible for an op here! The only one of you who could do this without tipping anybody off would be Natasha but she’s elsewhere as well. No one knows who I am, I don’t set off any alarms. I’m nobody. I can do this.”

     Steve brow furrows when she says she’s nobody. She’s _not_ nobody. She’s Darcy Lewis. She’s the best goddamn thing to happen to him and Bucky since before the war.

     However, he does cede the point. Any of the Avengers would draw unwanted attention to the two women. Something Darcy assures him they can’t afford.

     Steve suddenly understands why Darcy called to let them know instead of going ahead. This is Avengers’ business. The operation needs an okay from the leader of the Avengers—no matter how unofficial.

     Steve curses. Not for the first time, he finds himself thinking about how much he hates being Captain America.

     “How big is the compound,” he asks, pained. Bucky looks at him in shocked disbelief.

     

     “A pretty decent size,” Darcy answers, “but clearly understaffed.”

      _Which actually gives me a pretty bad feeling_ , she doesn’t tell him.

     At the dining room table in their suite, Jane sits across from her, biting her thumbnail and shuffling papers in front of her. She checks and rechecks readings, clearly nervous.

     “How many did you count?” Darcy hears Steve on the other side of the line. She knows he’s talking about agents.

     “A little more than two dozen armed men and a pack leader.”

     “ _Two dozen_!” She hears Bucky’s muffled shout, “Steve!”

     “Can you handle that many?”

     Darcy realizes that she’s no longer talking to Steve Rogers but, rather, Captain America himself.

     “Steve, you can’t honestly be thinking about sending her in there,” Bucky exclaims. Darcy bristles.

     “I’ve been trained pretty well by Natasha, Barnes. The operative _you yourself_ trained. So I know it’s not my training you’re calling into question but myself personally, right?”

     “Doll—,” Bucky tries, but she cuts him off.

     “Look, Steve, say the word and I won’t do it. We’ll come back and figure something else out but by then they’ll have moved the artifact somewhere harder to reach and harder to find. This thing could possibly cause another battle of New York, Captain, and time is running out to get to it. I can _do_ this, I _promise_ you.”

     There’s silence on Steve and Bucky’s side and Darcy waits anxiously for the Captain’s answer. Jane reorganizes the same stack of files for the fifth time and Darcy reaches a hand over to grasp hers. Their eyes meet across the table and Darcy can see the worry in Jane’s for the younger woman. Darcy gives her a reassuring squeeze and a nod.

     “What time is it over there,” Steve asks and Darcy startles. She looks at her watch.

     “1500.”

     “You leave at sunset, you get in, you get the item, and you get out before sunrise—,” Darcy grins at Jane, “—you do not, I repeat, _do not_ engage with the enemy. Am I clear? You keep your identity covered and return at sunrise and call to report to me regardless of whether or not you have the objective in your possession. If you fail to do this or return at sunrise, Dr. Foster will call me and I won’t give a damn if I have clearance to be over there or not, Darcy. I will be coming for you.”

     Darcy blushes at the intensity of his words and answers with a surprisingly steady ‘yes, sir’.

     “Darcy? Doll?” She hears Bucky say through the phone.

     “Yeah, Buck?”

     “Just…fuck. Be careful. Don’t do anything stupid alright?”

     Darcy snorts.

     “Who do you think I am, Barnes? Steve?”

     She hears them chuckle on the other side.

     “Be safe, Darce.”

     “I will, Stevie.” She hangs up the phone and releases a long breath. Jane stares at her with a knowing smirk that Darcy ignores.

     “It’s a go,” Darcy tells her with a grin. Jane grins back and jumps to her feet, saying she’s going to get the scanner that Darcy will need to verify the object’s presence. While she does that, Darcy heads for her suitcase, digging at the bottom and removing the hi-tech body suit Natasha had gifted to her while they were on their grand adventure. She feels the material. Sturdy, but lightweight and breathable.

     Time to get to work.

 

     Bucky watches Steve hang up the phone and sit down on the bench, scrubbing a hand down his face. Bucky stays standing, arms crossed, staring at the wall above Steve’s head. He’s trying really hard to stay calm—trying not to think of Darcy over there alone.

     He understands why Steve did what he did, why he was letting Darcy run into danger like this, but fuck if it did anything to help how pissed and scared he was right now.

     God, if she dies— _if she dies_ —

     “Bucky—,” Steve starts but Bucky holds up a hand to silence him.

     “Just—just give me minute, Steven.” They both stay silent as Bucky works past his protective instincts of Darcy to see the plan for what it is. Dangerous but necessary.

     He _knows_ necessary. He and Steve have been doing what’s necessary since 1942. He just wishes Darcy hadn’t been dragged into it.

     For that matter, he’s sure Steve’s feeling like shit as well. He knows how much the punk hates making these sorts of decisions.

     Even thinking it all through, Bucky still feels like hijacking one of Starks planes and jetting off to Darcy’s side with Steve but he knows it wouldn’t help at all. If fact, it might make things worse.

     He trusts Steve.

     He trusts Darcy.

     He’s got to let it happen.

     Bucky takes a deep breath and looks at his love of so many decades. Steve’s eyes are trained on his lap and Bucky grimaces.

     “If she doesn’t call at sunrise, don’t think you’re going after her alone, you dumb punk.”

     Steve’s head snaps up and Bucky can see that he understands the statement for what it is. Acceptance, reassurance, and a promise to continue to be by his side. Bucky leans down and kisses him on the brow before resting his brow against it.

     “I love you, you jerk,” Steve whispers. Bucky grins and kisses him fiercely on the lips. Steve scrunches up his nose and shoves the older man away.

     “Christ, you stink,” Steve complains, getting to his feet. Bucky laughs and throws his flesh arm around Steve’s neck so he can get the full effect of Bucky’s after-work-out B.O.

     “You’re no field of flowers yourself, Rogers,” Bucky shoots back, dragging Steve along with him to the showers.

     If anything, they just end up getting sweatier in the showers.

     Answer:

     When he’s a Captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone see the leaked Ant-Man end credits scene? Because I'm ignoring it forever (in between crying about it always). Denial's not just a river in Africa, you know.


	10. Out In the Field

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question:  
> What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy shows off her previously vaguely described combat skills. That's it. That's the show.

Question:

What could possibly go wrong?

 

     At sunset, Darcy had driven to just a mile up the road of the territory, parked the car, and hiked the rest of the way in. As full dark settled over the land, Darcy stands on the edge of the property, crouched behind a bit of debris. She’d left Jane behind at the hotel where she would be safer and not in the way of Darcy kicking some serious ass.

     Not that Jane _couldn’t_ kick ass but Darcy could do it better. And quieter.

     Darcy shifts at her post, watching the two perimeter guards bicker in the distance. Her black combat boots make no sound, even sinking into the mud of the dilapidated field around her.

     She’d not yet had the chance to try out her Black Widow Cat Suit™ but she’s pleased to find that it fits her like a second skin. The chest compressor on the front gives enough support and room for breathing, the material is so lightweight she can barely feel it, it doesn’t ride up anywhere, and she looks _fucking fantastic_.

     She’d spent at least a whole fifteen minutes admiring her own ass in the mirror. Jane had insisted on taking a picture of her before she’d left on the mission; like some proud mama whose daughter was going to prom or something…

     She takes the pair of night vision goggles clipped onto her utility belt and surveys the environment. The only guards for some distance are the two on perimeter duty but she can just make out a sniper about a hundred yards from the main building. There are two small outlying buildings on the way in that she hopes are empty. She grimaces at the thought of all the open area she needs to cross undetected.

     Here’s the thing about oil fields: they’re basically a large open space dotted with numerous vantage points from which a sniper could take out, say, a short, American woman in a cat suit trying to infiltrate the main compound all on her lonesome.

     Luckily, _this_ short, American woman in a cat suit trying to infiltrate the main compound all on her lonesome has been training with the Black Widow for some time now.

     She looks for the sniper one more time, determining that he does not, in fact, have a direct line of sight to the two guards at the front of the field. She reaches for the ICER on her hip with one hand and pulls up her hood with the other. A wicked grin crosses her face.

      _And remember kids_ , she thinks aiming the silent ICER at the first of the two guards, _have fun!_

     The first goes down with a small grunt, leaving the second man confused for a quarter of a second before he goes down as well. Darcy vaults the discarded pile of scrap metal and runs for the first tower, boots still silent on the earth as she stops by a leg. She peeks around the corner and sees the sniper still slouching at his post in the distance.

      _Man, the scope on these goggles is fantastic_.

     She knows she needs to get as close as she possibly can to the sniper’s tower without alerting him to her presence. That’s going to be tricky enough without having anything to take cover behind but the wiry metal frames of oil towers. The cover of nightfall and her black suit are barely helpful considering the man—more than likely—has a night vision scope on the rifle he’s holding.

     He’d be dumb not to seeing as how it’s fucking night time.

     She gets closer and closer to his tower until, about a hundred feet from him, he turns in her direction and she drops to the ground so fast she feels the breath leave her lungs. She waits, gasping silently and keeping down, trying to blend in with the oil pump she’d fortuitously fallen behind.

     There’s no gun shots and there’s no angry Russian shouting so she assumes she’s clear but stays down for a few minutes just to be safe (and also to catch her breath but that shits not going in the report, no sir).

     Darcy thanks every deity she can think of (sans Loki) for the waterproofing on her suit. She may be cold, but at least she’s not soaked by the puddle she landed in.

     After that, it’s a few short runs until she’s standing directly beneath the sniper’s tower. She climbs up the inside of one leg, moves around to the front, flips up into the box, and incapacitates the surprised man inside.

     “Wow, that was one hundred percent luck,” Darcy says as she stares at the body of the man beneath her. And really it was. She hadn’t even checked to make sure he was looking the other way. Belatedly, she thinks that was probably not the smartest thing she could have done but she’s on a time crunch and she panicked. If Natasha ever found out, she’d be in big fucking trouble.

     She picks up the sniper-rifle the man was using (equipped not only with a silencer but both a night-vision and infrared scope, ha!) and aims it towards the main building. She counts three more guards on the top floor and…that’s it…

     With a sinking feeling, Darcy realizes that the number of guards in the building has _decreased_ since earlier in the day. Meaning, more than likely, whatever was here is here no longer.

     “Shit,” Darcy whispers.

     Darcy takes out the small scanning device that Jane had jerry-rigged for her adventure. It purportedly works like a Geiger counter except that it reads the particles charged with blah-blah-science-blah around artifacts of an extraterrestrial nature (and it’s way cooler). Jane taught Darcy how to follow the counter to whatever it is they’re looking for, assuring her it should get readings on the object up to a mile away.

     All Darcy’s picking up are residual readings, like leftover radiation or the charge in the atmosphere after the Aether returned to Asgard…

     Whatever it was Darcy just ninja-ed her way into a secure location for is long gone.

     “I really wish I’d figured out it wasn’t here before I did all the cool secret agent shit,” Darcy talks to the body of the sniper below her as she messes with the controls on Jane’s thingamabob. Darcy may be badass but she’s also a firm believer in doing the absolute minimum amount of work possible.

     So, the artifact is gone. Where to? Darcy has no idea. She puts the thingamabob back on her utility belt (how cool is that?) and blows a few hairs out of her face where they’ve fallen from her ponytail. She looks down at the body below her again, purses her lips.

     Darcy may not know where the alien mojo went but _this_ guy might…

     A slow, evil grin stretches across her face.

 

     The Russian goon (surprisingly, _just_ a Russian goon) comes to, stripped to his boxers, tied to the back of Darcy’s van, and without his fake tooth/cyanide pill.

     She’d taken his panic button and all his weapons after she’d carry/dragged his unconscious body back to her car and driven to a secluded location. Well, actually, she’d just gotten really lost (something else that isn’t going in the report. What is she saying? _She’s_ not doing any paperwork).

     He’s disoriented and disbelieving that the 5’4” woman in front of him took him down.

     “Sup,” Darcy says with a smirk.

     “Go fuck yourself,” the goon spits in heavily accented English.

     “Wow, rude. Listen, Rasputin, I don’t have a lot of time. There’s some information I need and you’re gonna give it to me, please and thank you,” Darcy pulls out her Taser, turning it on and letting the goon hear the high-pitched, electrical whine of it charging up.

     “Now we can do this the easy way…or the hard way,” she finishes.

     It doesn’t take long for the man to crack. She doesn’t even have to use the Taser. Turns out he fucking hates his assignment, thinks it’s a waste of time. He answers every question she’s got.

     What she learns is this: There was a thing. A small, cylindrical thurible-looking thing giving off a green glow. It crashed down exactly when Jane picked up her weird readings (exactly what Darcy wanted to hear) and anyone who touched it immediately fell into a coma (exactly what Darcy _did not_ want to hear).

     “A…coma?”

     “Yes. It is like one moment they are awake, they reach for it, but as soon as they make contact…they faint. We could not wake any of them up. Six men are in the hospital because of the god-forsaken thing. They are completely unresponsive, Doctors say.”

     “So…where did it go? Did you destroy it or something?” Darcy asks. The man scoffs.

     “Destroy it? No, of course not. It was stolen.”

     “It was—wait, what?” she crosses her arms in front of her, looking at him doubtfully, “You said anyone who touched it fell into a coma.”

     He nods his head from side to side in a ‘meh’ motion.

     “Is what we thought. Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately?—Evproksia seemed to be immune. For the most part.”

     “For the most part,” Darcy repeats.

     “Well, she didn’t fall into a coma, but she did go on a mad rampage after she picked it up.”

     “Grand,” Darcy drawls, swiping a hand down her face. The man shrugs in his bonds, seemingly unconcerned.

     “Any idea where she might have gone with the damn thing?” Darcy snaps. She’s irritated. She’d worked hard to get this far dammit, and she didn’t want to go back to Jane empty handed. Worst of all she was going to have to tell Steve how she came across this information. He’d specifically told her not to engage the enemy.

     She needs to get in touch with Steve right away.

     Darcy grimaces as she thinks about how that conversation is going to go.

     “Lady, if we knew that, I wouldn’t be on this damned assignment in the first place.”

     Darcy rolls her eyes.

 

     Darcy knocks the guy out before releasing him from his bonds. She leaves him with his clothes and panic button before taking off, crushing the pill viciously beneath her heel. She makes it back to the hotel in record time (thank god for GPS) and curses when she sees the sun peaking over the horizon. She dials Steve’s number as she’s hurrying into the lobby.

     “Darcy,” he picks up on the third ring, voice both relieved and stern.

     “Hey, handsome,” Darcy shoots back, “Did you finish all the meals I made yet? Have you given each other food poisoning with your awful cooking?” She hears him huff in amusement and can practically see the slight smile on his face over the phone.

     “Cutting it a little close aren’t you?”

     “Have you just been sitting in front of a clock counting down or something? You’re in a different time zone.” She gets off the elevator on her floor, heading swiftly down the hall to the hotel room.

     “…no.”

     “Mmhm, sure. Listen, Steve,” she says, stopping by her and Jane’s door before trying to remember what pocket on her utility belt holds the door key, “so it didn’t exactly go according to plan—,”

     “What? What happened are you hurt?” he asks urgently. Darcy rolls her eyes again but smiles at the genuine care in his words.

     “No, I’m perfectly fine,” she reassures him. Aha! She finally gets the keycard out of a back pocket, holding it triumphantly in the air. Wait, why didn’t she just knock on the fucking door?

      _Oh, well,_ she thinks, sliding the card into the reader and waiting for the green light.

     “But, um, you see—,” Darcy starts, turning the handle.

     She doesn’t get much farther. As soon as she steps into the room, a booted heel is flying towards her face. Darcy shrieks as she narrowly ducks the move, ungracefully lunging to the side and coming up in a fighting stance.

     No new attack comes for her. Instead she’s left staring dumbfounded at a relieved and exasperated Natasha Romanoff. She makes a ‘what the fuck?!’ gesture at the redhead.

     “What are you doing here? Weren’t you in…someplace classified?” Darcy hisses. Natasha rolls her eyes before pointing down between them where the phone’s fallen.

     “DARCY?!” She hears through the line.

     Darcy grimaces, realizing she’d dropped the phone on the ground and Steve had heard her scream. Natasha snatches it up and hands it to her.

     “I’m fine! I swear! Just,” she looks to Natasha who shakes her head minutely, clearly not wanting her name thrown out over the airwaves, “have an unexpected guest.”

     “That’s not reassuring.” Natasha rolls her eyes again. Darcy shrugs.

     “Trust me, I’m in no more danger than you at the moment, Steve,” Darcy huffs, “I’ve got the other half of the Cold War Crew with me.”

     Natasha gives her a sour look but calls out to Steve anyway.

     “I’m here, Steve,” she says loud enough for his super-soldier hearing to pick it up. Steve sighs on the other end of the line and Darcy imagines him rubbing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger (as he’s want to do every time he gets word that Natasha and Darcy are doing something together).

     “What do you mean the mission didn’t go as planned?” Bucky demands. Darcy had assumed he was with Steve on the call but he had, up to this point, remained silent. She’s glad to hear his voice.

     “Well, I’ll tell you but let me get Jane first so I don’t have to explain all this twice,” Darcy says. She belatedly wonders why Jane isn’t already standing there with them, hounding Darcy with questions about how everything went.

     Then she notices the look on Natasha’s face; a mix between sad and uncomfortable.

     Darcy’s hands go cold as she moves past Natasha, who’d previously been blocking both her entrance into the suite and her view of it. Her breath stops when she sees the state of the hotel. Furniture is overturned or broken, glass litters the smooth carpet, there’s blood on the floor that Darcy resolutely has to tell herself is _not_ Jane’s, and on the far wall—in black sharpie, Darcy thinks—is a skull, sprouting tentacles, inside a circle.

     ‘Hail Hydra’ is written underneath.

     Answer:

     Oh, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to apologize for leaving you guys hanging for so long. I've been going through a rough patch lately and really had to get my head back together before I could function like a normal human being. I can't promise it won't happen again but I will promise you that I will never abandon this story. Thanks for being patient with me and for all of your amazing comments.  
> On another note, this chapter is *not* beta read because I wanted you guys to have something *finally* so if you see any errors or anything you can comment about them or contact me at the tumblr I made specifically so any of you could bug me about my fics: captainwittyonewriter.tumblr.com   
> Please come bug me.


	11. Into The Fray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question:   
> How far would you go for a friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back  
> back again  
> Shadey's back  
> tell a friend
> 
> This chapter took me forever and I'm still not completely satisfied. Also, it isn't beta read.
> 
> Darcy and Natasha use the combined power of BossAssBitch to take out a Hydra base, are a little offended that Jane's brain is irrelevant, and completely ignore the fact that 'help is on the way'.

Question:

How far would you go for a friend?

 

     “Who uses sharpie to make a political statement,” Darcy asks, standing in front of the wall with her arms crossed and decidedly ignoring the sounds of Natasha righting the debris behind her, “wouldn’t, like, blood be more appropriate for a fascist cult or…?”

     Both boys were on their way over having been given the low-down on the situation by Natasha. Darcy had been too busy checking every room of the suite—twice—on the slimmest hope that maybe Jane was hiding somewhere, maybe it was a joke, maybe she got away, maybe Darcy hadn’t left her unprotected to her fate. But she wasn’t and Darcy had to face the facts.

     She fucked up. She fucked up and Jane’s in trouble for it.

     “You didn’t fuck up, Darcy,” Natasha sighs behind her and Darcy flinches.

     Darcy interrupts before she can say anymore, turning around and scratching her forehead. A tell, Natasha notes, she probably picked up from Steve.

     “So, how did you get here anyway weren’t you…elsewhere? You were radio silent and not due back for, like, two weeks or something so…how did you, uh, how’d you know we were here?”

     Natasha stares at her and Darcy holds her gaze, silently pleading with Natasha not to try and talk about fault with her, not right now. Natasha sighs again, complying with her wishes for the moment though her gaze promised they would be talking about this at a later time.

     “After Maria dropped you here,” she explains, righting one of the armchairs that had totally fallen by itself not because there was a struggle which more than likely ended in Jane in pain.

     “She got a message out to me. Told me you and Jane were here without Thor. I wasn’t learning anything we didn’t already know about on my mission so I made my way over here. Figured you could use the back-up. I got here a couple of minutes before you did only to find this mess. It seems I wasn’t fast enough.”

     “It’s not like you could have predicted this, Natasha,” Darcy says quietly, looking away.

     “No, and neither could you have,” Natasha throws back. Darcy squeezes her eyes shut against the familiar burn of tears and tilts her head back, letting it hang.

     “I shouldn’t have left her, though. I know she’s a high risk target. You taught me better,” Darcy tries, voice barely above a whisper. She wants to cry and rage and scream. She really fucking does.

     She hears Natasha grunt and looks back to see her sitting in the armchair, a blank expression on her face.

     “Look, I’m not a priest, Darcy. I can’t absolve you of your guilt and it would be hypocritical of me to try. One thing I can say is that you’re right. I did teach you better. So, what now?” Natasha challenges.

     What now?

      _Good fucking question_ , Darcy thinks, a little thrown by the rapid change in atmosphere.

     What now, what now, what now. God, is she stupid? She’s been following the _motherfucking Black Widow_ around for more than a year facing worse than this and as soon as someone she cares for is caught in the cross fire she freezes?

      _Fuck that!_ Darcy thinks, determination bubbling up, fueled by her rage.

     Darcy starts to go through their options. The boys are on their way but they won’t make it for another ten hours at least. They could wait but that’s valuable time they’d be losing. The local authorities can’t help them with Hydra so going to the police is obviously out. Is Jane even still in the country? How fast can a splinter cell of an exposed terrorist cell get a high-profile kidnappee out of Azerbaijan? What clues do they have as to her whereabouts?

     Darcy realizes that she should have been searching the suite for clues, not her missing friend. She should have been helping Natasha, not wallowing in pointless guilt.

     She looks around. Jane’s things—how much of Jane’s stuff did they take? All of it? None of it? She heads through the rooms again. None of it. They’d left all of Jane’s stuff, all of her research. So, this isn’t about the foreign alien object. Probably not the Bifrost, either.

     “You know,” she says as she makes her way back to report to Natasha, who’s still sitting in the chair, “I think I’m more pissed off that they took her as bait than I would be if they’d taken her for her brain.”

     Natasha grins, mean and sharp. It promises a lot of pain.

     “It’s not very flattering, is it?”

     “No. No it’s not. So, if all they’re going to use her for is bait—for Thor, probably—then they, most likely, have no need to take her out of the country. Here’s as good as anywhere, right? If they needed her to do Science! they would probably take her to a facility where their research is.”

     Natasha nods graciously. Darcy feels absurdly proud for getting this far. She tenses as another thought hits her.

     “How’d they know we were here? This was a really last minute trip.”

     “That,” Natasha hisses, “I will find out when we find them. For now, we find how they infiltrated the hotel. There were no signs of a break in so we must assume that Jane opened the door for them or they had a key.”

     “Implying they either dressed as hotel staff or the hotel staff helped them out,” Darcy nods.

     Natasha’s sharp grin returns to her face as she stands.

     “Shall we go ask the front desk? I hear they’re very helpful.”

     Darcy has a sudden wave of pity for whatever poor soul is working this morning. Natasha hangs the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door as they leave.

 

     An hour and a half later, Darcy and Natasha are crouched on the rooftop across from the apartment building of last night’s concierge. A review of the hotel’s camera footage (that they were not-so-voluntarily given access to) shows that the Hydra agents, four of them, received a copy of the girls’ room card from the man behind the front desk; no questions asked, no communication. He’d known they were coming for it and had it ready.

     So the kid’s probably Hydra. If he is, Darcy and Natasha are about to find out. They watch as the guy they’re tracking exits his apartment building and starts making his way towards his motorcycle. He gets on and takes off. Natasha pulls up the GPS tracker on her phone and they watch as the Hydra agent’s red blip moves southeast. Hopefully, he’ll lead them right to wherever the nearest Hydra base is. If not…well, then they’ll just have to pull him over and ask him for directions, won’t they?

     Darcy and Natasha, now in civilian clothing, make their way down to the street. Darcy stands watch while Natasha works her spysassin magic on an old Mercedes, quickly getting the door open and hotwiring the engine. Darcy casually strolls around to the passenger side and gets in, giving Natasha a nod once she’s buckled up.

     Natasha raises a brow at her. Darcy shrugs.

     “What? Safety first, right?”

     Natasha just shakes her head before pulling away from the curb and following the beeping GPS.

     In an incredibly lucky turn of events, the suspected Hydra agent turns out to be an actual-for-real Hydra agent and leads them right to the not-subtle-at-all Hydra base, complete with menacing guards wearing—get this—Hydra badges.

     “They’re not even trying,” Darcy complains.

     She and Natasha are parked in the alley between two dilapidated buildings. Nothing around them is occupied and the Hydra base that is literally right smack-dab in the middle of the neighborhood is probably why.

     Unfortunately, this means there isn’t really any crowd to blend into. They’re the only ones on the street. If they tried to approach, especially at this time of morning, they’d be seen.

     Natasha hums in agreement.

     “There’re still more of them than you and I will be able to take out on our own,” she says.

     “So…what? We wait for Steve and Bucky?” Darcy asks incredulously. Natasha scoffs.

     “You really want to sit here and wait for Captain America to arrive and tell you off for not obeying orders.” Natasha raises her brows.

     Darcy worries her lip.

     “Fuck it,” she decides, “I’m already fucked for the rest of it. I mean, wait until he hears what I did last night. Like, I blatantly ignored his directions to not engage enemy combatants. Might as well finish up, right? I think I’ll go for the full-scale disappointment package please, Alex.”

     “After the worry wears off he’ll probably be more turned on than disappointed,” Natasha points out, making Darcy blush and sputter.

     “Nat!”

     Natasha shrugs, continuing to study the Hydra compound in front of them.

     “You can’t keep pretending you don’t have feelings for them, Darcy,” Natasha says.

     Darcy blushes harder.

     “It’s not like I can do anything about it, Natasha,” Darcy snaps, “they’re together! They’re my friends!”

     “And?”

     “And I’m not going to try to come between them!” She snaps.

     “Ever think that ‘between them’ is exactly where they want you?” Natasha asks nonchalantly, voice calm and casual.

     Darcy stares at her, mouth agape.

     “Regardless,” she continues, “we aren’t waiting for Ice Age I and Ice Age II. We need a group of trained agents,” she turns to Darcy, who’s still staring at her in shock, “what’s the CIA equivalent in Azerbaijan?”

     “The MNS,” Darcy states numbly, “but I highly doubt they’re going to be much help.”

     “Says you,” Natasha says, starting their car and pulling away, “Who runs it?”

     “The Minister of National Security.”

     Natasha hums. She looks over at Darcy, eyes her up and down.

     “How fast can you make friends?”

     “You mean how fast can I convince the leader of a KGB remnant, secret service to help us rescue a lone American?”

     Darcy sighs, thinking. She furrows her brow.

     “Actually…probably not that long.”

     

     Overall, from transport to break in to under-the-table deal, it takes Darcy three hours to secure the secret aid of the Minister of National Security. Darcy and Natasha get a team of trained secret agents to help them out and the Minister gets to take the career-making credit of finding and destroying a ‘hidden’ Hydra splinter cell. They’ve also all agreed that it would be best for all parties if Natasha, Darcy, and Jane’s presences and participation remained a secret.

     Win all around.

     To get the team briefed and ready to go takes another hour. By Darcy’s watch that means they have four hours until Bucky and Steve arrive and she _sorely_ wants to be done with the mission by then.

     “Ready to go?” Natasha asks her, inspecting her Widow Bites. She had gone back to the hotel to fetch their gear while Darcy stayed behind as a show of good faith.

     Darcy takes a deep breath, mentally cataloging her weapons. She had a couple ICERs, her Taser, night vision goggles (unneeded), her communications device, rope, a panic button, a number of knives, and a stun baton. Nothing truly lethal. She wouldn’t be taking any lives, as usual. She understood that the odds were good that she would have to eventually but for now…she was woman enough to admit that she was putting it off as long as possible.

     As if she could read her mind, Natasha squeezes her shoulder.

     “Don’t worry, Darcy,” she says quietly, “you leave that to me.”

     Darcy frowns and shakes her head.

     “I don’t want to lay that at your feet, Natasha.” She shrugs, now checking her pistols. Natasha only carries one ICER. You don’t send the Black Widow to take prisoners.

     “It’s just a little more red on my ledger.”

     Darcy groans.

     “Or we could fuck the metaphors, blatantly ignore the past, and retire to Trinidad. It’s nice there and God knows you deserve nice, Natasha,” Darcy whispers so the other agents don’t hear. Natasha snorts.

     “You’ve never even been to Trinidad,” she whispers back, blatantly ignoring Darcy’s point instead of the past. Darcy clenches her jaw but takes the hint.

     “I know. You didn’t take me. I haven’t been to, like, _any_ islands,” she grumbles, “Not even the Hawaiian Islands! I, an American, have been to _Siberia_ but have yet to step foot on any of the Hawaiian or Caribbean islands.”

     Natasha turns to her with an unimpressed look.

     “Tragic,” she deadpans, slotting her clip back into one of her pistols for emphasis.

 

     Darcy’s running through the corridors of the Hydra facility taking out Hydra agents as she goes. It’s not a lot, as most of them are fighting Natasha and the other agents on the other side of the facility. She’s already fought a group of three all at once (which was much harder than Natasha made it look). The rest she’s able to pick off as she goes. She comes into contact with two more on her way to the containment area.

     The first gets the stun baton right in the jugular. She spins, kicking him back into the goon behind him who then falls into the wall trying to get out of the way. Darcy kicks off the opposite wall and knocks him out with a boot to the face.

     She lands on her bad foot and nearly crumples with a hiss. Yeah, those three she fought altogether? They got in a few more hits than she was willing to tell Natasha about. She could already feel her right eye getting a little swollen from an elbow to the face. A kick to the hip might have caused some bad bruising, if she’s lucky, and the ankle was actually her own damn fault (she tripped, sue her). Nobody’s accusing her of being Ms. Grace.

     She ignores the pain. It’s not important right now. Right now, she’s six cells away from where Jane’s being kept.

     The cell’s not all that much, just a steel door with a little opening for food or something.

     “Janey?” she calls through the opening.

     “Darcy!” Jane shouts back rushing up to the door. She can see Jane’s blood shot eyes through the slot.

     “Oh, thank fuck,” Darcy sighs and then louder into her comm she says, “I’ve got Foster.” She looks for the cell lock, pulling out the keys she took from her earlier assailants.

     “What are you doing here?” Jane asks.

     Darcy rolls her eyes as she tries keys one after the other to find a fit.

     “Oh, you know, Jane,” she finds it, “just thought I’d stop by, see how you were adjusting to life in prison. I brought a housewarming gift,” Darcy gets the large door open, giving Jane a ‘bitch-please’ look. “It’s freedom.”

     “Hardy, har, har,” Jane says, a look of relief on her face. Her face that has light bruising and a split lip.

     “Motherfuckers,” Darcy hisses, gently taking Jane’s chin in her hand and tilting her head to inspect the damage. Jane bats it away.

     “We can get pissed about this over tequila _later_ , Darcy. Are we getting out of here or what?”

     “Can you walk?”

     “I’m standing aren’t I?”

     “Wow, you are the most ungrateful damsel I have ever rescued,” Darcy laughs as she starts to lead the way back towards the exit.

     Jane tilts her head in curiosity.

     “How many damsels have you rescued?”

     “Including you?” Darcy pretends to think about it, “One.”

     Jane snorts.

     Natasha gives them the all clear over the comms. Darcy and Jane meet her outside by the side of the building and they watch as the MNS team cleans up the remaining bodies, tying up prisoners and loading them onto a newly awaiting transport. Darcy checks her watch. One hour before the boys are due to arrive. She grimaces.

     Natasha frowns when she notices Darcy’s limp and black eye but doesn’t say anything. For her own part, the red-head is completely unscathed. She motions Jane and Darcy over to a waiting car and they crawl into the backseat as Natasha takes the wheel.

     “Well, I’m beat,” Natasha makes small talk as she drives.

     Darcy and Jane both scoff.

     “Yeah, you certainly look it,” Jane sasses. Natasha smiles at them in the rearview mirror.

     “I have been literally beaten. Do not talk to me about ‘beat’ right now,” Darcy says, laying her head on Jane’s shoulder and slumping down. Natasha hums.

     “You did well, Darcy. I’m proud of you.”

     “My hero,” Jane seconds in a sappy voice.

     Darcy smiles at the praise, glad to have Jane back; glad she could help. She’s not keen on trying any of this again any time soon, still far preferring normal business hours to super-spy gigs, but she thinks—for Jane, for Natasha, for the people she cares about so damn much—she could release her inner hero if it’s needed.

     “Thanks,” she whispers before drifting off.

     Answer:

     Ask Hydra (if any of them can still speak).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm looking for some new beta readers who can help me out! If you're interested, message me on my tumblr!   
> captainwittyonewriter.tumblr.com
> 
> I'm shirking my College Kid Duties™ for fanfiction.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've ever heard of or seen the play 'Dog Sees God' then you already know someone's going to die. However, like most things in Marvel, they won't stay dead for long.


End file.
